


The King of Hearts

by ThisIsWhereTrashGoes



Series: The King of Hearts verse [1]
Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Angry and bitter! Dice, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Devildice in future chapters, Dice and the Devil meet as teens, Dice gets a backstory and the Devil does too because why not, Dice is an empath(of sorts)!au, Dice wants to be a bad person, M/M, Mainly about how Dice becomes the manager at the casino, Past Child Abuse, Siblings used as a minor plot point, The Devil was born a mortal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-05-27 16:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15029021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsWhereTrashGoes/pseuds/ThisIsWhereTrashGoes
Summary: Young Kingsley Dice only wanted a few things in life:He wanted power.He wanted respect.He wanted to be feared.He wanted to beKing.But that was hard to do with this irritating thing beating in his chest.





	1. The Rise and Fall of a King

**Author's Note:**

> Late to the party as usual with this being my first fic for this fandom, but oh well. This is just my take on Dice's backstory for how he came to be the manager of the Devil's casino.
> 
> Inspired by this image: (https://askcupsandcasinos.tumblr.com/post/169979609541/dice-can-we-see-an-example-of-you-charming-people) by @askcupsandcasinos. 
> 
> Hope you like it!  
> http://thisiswheretrashgoes.tumblr.com/

He had assumed that one day, he would run across his past. He had been prepared for it. Ready to sport a shit eating grin as he showed off his life of luxury as the King of the Casino. One of the best things about success was the bragging rights. Why have all these luxuries if he couldn’t even rub it in someone’s face, after all?

But, of course, things didn’t always work out as planned. And this was certainly **_not_** how he had planned for this meeting to go when he spotted **_her_** in his casino.

He had come to the Devil’s casino with a goal in mind. And sure, he’d been a little drunk and a little too bold to go around challenging the Devil himself to a game, but his goal remained the same:

He wanted to be _King_.

Maybe not in the royal sense, no, but he had wanted to make a name for himself. He had worked tirelessly for _years_ under the ruler of Hell itself to earn his title as the king of the Devil’s casino. With his steady climb from waiter, to dealer, to manager, his life started falling into place. This was where he needed to be all along. This was where he belonged.

He was respected.

He was loved.

He was _feared_.

Thirteen years of hard work to get to his position as manager, King of the casino, and trusted right-hand man of the Devil himself. It was perfect. Taking the Devil’s dying project and turning it into the mass success that it was now. They did say that with enough hard work and determination, anyone could achieve their dreams.

However, nobody said how easy it would be for those dreams to be taken away. Thirteen years…all that work destroyed in an instant. He didn’t understand. Had he not worked hard enough? Had he not earned everything he’d gotten?

He thought he was untouchable. He _had_ been untouchable. He was sleazy, sure, but he was ruthless. Vicious. He wasn’t afraid to prove that he was not to be messed with. Maybe he had let himself get drunk with power. Maybe he’d become arrogant as he’d adjusted comfortably into his new status.

His first mistake was those goddamn cup brothers. He knew to be suspicious of those two, but he didn’t realize how heavily he had underestimated them in the end. They came rushing back to the casino with all those contracts in hand, ready to face off with the Boss-man himself. Ha! They were a waste of the boss’ time…or so he had thought.

That was his first true defeat in a very long time. He fell along with his employees. The casino had been in shambles. And _oh_ , was the Devil furious with him, not that he had much room to talk. He had lost as well. Really, it looked worst for the Devil himself, of all beings, to be defeated by those little bastards.

Needless to say, it was a bad day for the Devil’s casino. All of inkwell’s debtors’ contracts were burned and those deadbeats were set free.

It was an embarrassing defeat, that was for sure, but his focus was more on the state of his beloved casino. The Boss was considering leaving to sulk in Hell for a couple years or so. Give people time to forget his shameful downfall, but Dice just couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t risk the casino being taking away from him just because a couple of mugs made the Devil cry. With some persistence, he tried to convince the Devil that this incident was something they could recover from without needing to go into hiding. One thing he loved and hated, was the _wickedness_ of the nature of people. That and their willingness to give up just about anything in hopes to make it big.

The arrogant.

The stupid.

The naïve.

The _desperate_.

People like them would always exist and they would make their way to the casino sooner or later, willing to risk it all for the chance of winning big. Yes, they could rebuild and make a comeback. He’d be _damned_ if he’d let years of hard work be ruined because of those brothers. He couldn’t let this life slip through his fingers. He wouldn’t lose. Not like this.

He _wouldn’t_ be a **_failure_** , goddammit!

The Devil expressed his anger with him at his lost quite… _painfully_ , but he gave him a second chance. He didn’t think the Devil understood just how much the casino meant to him. He didn’t need to. He just needed him out of the way while he got back to work. The Devil was content in doing just that, watching with interest as his right-hand man obsessed over the casino’s reconstruction.

It took time and Dice made sure to do things right. The Imps and the employees working tirelessly to bring the place back to its former glory.

In a month’s time, the casino was ready to be re-opened. And, as expected, suckers started filtering in as time went on. Within a year, the place was just as busy as it ever was. The King was back, and life was back on track again. The Devil happily racking in the profits while letting Dice do all of the work.

This time, Dice planned to work harder. Not only for the casino, but to make sure that if those brothers come around again, he’d be ready for them. He had underestimated them the first time, but that was a mistake he didn’t plan on making twice. He wouldn’t let the casino be taken from him again. He doubted the Devil would even let him survive another defeat.

 

So…how is it that he found himself on the floor of his beloved casino, defeated, once again? It was hard to breathe. His ribs hurt. He suspected that a few were broken. Blood dripped onto the floor from a cut on his forehead. He couldn’t even see out of his left eye, black and swollen. His suit was torn and stained with red. He sucked in a breath and struggled to get up.

This defeat wasn’t because of the brothers. Not this time. If anything, this defeat was _worse_ than losing to those children. In the long run, that defeat was just a bump in the road…but _this_ …He felt like his world was falling apart around him. If he had to lose to anyone, why did it have to be to _her_?

“Hee hee! I have to say, I’m impressed, Kingsley.” She chuckled, digging her heel into his spine. “I _never_ would’ve imagined that you would amount to _so much_ after all these years!”

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go…She wasn’t supposed to be so goddamn _smug._

“…Money…power…and even more _powerful_ connections! You could say that you have it all. A life just _perfect_ for the picking…and _I want it_.” She grinned, digging her heel further into his back as he fought to keep from crying out in pain.

He weakly fought to push himself to his feet. “I’ve been here for _years_. You think the boss would just let you come in here and take my job? Just like that?” He laughed. Her grin only widened as she moved to stand in front of him.

Suddenly, he felt a familiar chill run up his spine as the Devil manifested himself behind the intruder. That grin of his was sinister and far too pleased for Dice’s liking.

“Oh, my! Why, brother, dear…who do ya think _offered_ me the job?”

 

* * *

 

 

Drug dealings.

Shoot outs.

Back alley deals.

You name it.

You could find it all in the big city.

Organized crime had a strong hold in places like this. Gangs were in control and knew just the right people to bribe to keep the police off their back. The Dice family had had a large presence in Inkwell for years now. They owned one of Inkwell’s largest casinos and were in control of many of the shady dealings that went on around the city. They had plenty of rival gangs wanting to cut into their profits, but those that dared to challenge them, didn’t have long before they were found and…dealt with accordingly. The Dice family was wealthy, powerful, and, ruthless. They were _feared_.

Leon Dice, head of the branch in Inkwell, wanted to make sure that when his children took over, that their reputation was maintained. He was a strict and violent man. He commanded authority and those who disrespected him didn’t often live to make that mistake again. Strength and power was the key to surviving in this business and he wouldn’t tolerate weakness in any of his subordinates.

The same went for his children.

Kingsley Dice was the second youngest child out of four children. One of them would be lucky enough to take over the family business and each child was eager to reach that goal no matter what. Their grooming started early. As a child, Kingslesy was already familiar with the executions that his father would carry out. Those people deserved it. Thinking they could cheat his father when they had a deal. Thieves and traitors were always given special treatment. His father’s own brand of sadistic torture. His children would watch, taking mental notes for when they would have to carry out similar tasks in the future.

However, his father knew early on that something was wrong with his second youngest. Young Kingsley was quite a…sensitive boy. No matter how many executions he’d witnessed, it would always leave him shaken, tears pouring down his face as those screams filled his nightmares. He used to beg to be excused so he wouldn’t have to witness more bloodshed. This only got him a hand across the face in the moment and a beating later in front of his other siblings. So, he would stay quiet and wait until he returned to his room to cry, least his father beat him again for showing signs of weakness.

His siblings, however, had already been desensitized to the violence while he struggled just to keep himself together in the view of the public.

King of Hearts.

The first time he heard that nickname made his heart race in his chest as he tried to hide his panic.

Coined by his sister, Naomi, Kingsley first heard that nickname when he was ten years old. It was around this age that his magic would start to develop. His older brothers were already well into their training to master their skills. Their magic fit each of them into a suit and a rank.

Diamond, Club, Spade, or…Heart.

Their suit and ranks were something they were born with, imbedded into their magic and revealed when they were old enough to develop their powers and imbed it into their own decks. Admittedly, Kingsley was nervous. His oldest brother was a Diamond, the best suit to be if one wanted to fill their father’s shoes. Diamonds were natural born leaders, responsible and strong-willed. They were fighters. This automatically upped the stakes for the rest of the Dice children. They would have to work harder if they wanted to try steal his place.

Kingsley had found himself in last place before his other two siblings even developed their magic. That position only solidified when the second eldest’s suit was revealed to be a Club. Intelligent. Cold. Calculating. Kingsley would be next. It was already anticipated that he would be a Heart. Loyal, sure, but also empathetic, emotional, and _weak._

If this was true…then he knew he didn’t have much of future in his father’s business. He’s never met another Heart suit before. He’s noticed that none of the one he’s heard about ever made it past the age of twelve. He had a sinking feeling as to why. He had no doubt that his own father would strike him down without a second thought. If he was a Heart, his days would be numbered. After all, there was no room for weakness in this sort of business.

As he grew older, it quickly became apparent that he would have to toughen up and prove himself if he wanted to survive. He refused to believe that he would belong to the weakest suit. He would prove his family wrong. Maybe, if he was lucky enough, he could be another Diamond, like his brother. The _King_ of Diamonds, like their father. He always felt so helpless…so, he thirsted for power. Power to make others feel like he felt. To do that, he had some work to do.

Working as the errand boy in his father’s casino, he soon found that he had a knack for sweet talking customers. He knew just what to say to twist them around his finger. He had a charm that his other siblings didn’t, and his father couldn’t help but be impressed. He was promoted to a waiter by the time he was eleven and found himself really putting his skills to the test. Empathy was something he weaponized. He learned how to read people and know just what buttons to push to get the desired effect. More drinking and more gambling. He watched as people threw their life savings away in some desperate attempt to win it all.

At first, the guilt ate away at him.

But, Kingsley had a goal in mind and he was nothing if not stubborn. He was determined to prove his worth. He was determined to prove that he was _better_. So, he started throwing himself into work despite the sick feeling at the pit of his stomach every time he helped someone lose. Empathy was a double-edged sword. He could see where some people where coming from and how desperately they needed a lucky brake…He heard people’s stories and _felt_ for them…before helping to put the nail in their coffin anyway. But he had to do this. There was no time for stupid shit like _guilt_. There was no reason to feel anything for lost souls like the ones who entered their doors. As time went on, it got easier and easier to tell himself that. And soon, the cries of desperation became music to his ears.

But, despite his success in the casino itself, he still found it difficult to handle the dirtier side of the family business. He grew frustrated. No matter how hard he tried, he found himself sympathizing with the victims, _no_ , debtors! Traitors! Thieves and pathetic _vermin_ … He couldn’t distance himself like the others. These were _people_. People with _lives_ and _families_ …

He’s seen plenty of people be killed. Children his own age…eliminated without a second thought. All of it haunted him and he hated it. What was he doing wrong? How could he stop himself from feeling this way? He kept telling himself that they deserved it, because they _did_. He was better than them. He _would be_ better than them. He had a goal in mind and he wouldn’t let them hold him back.

He kept telling himself that until the pangs of guilt were ignorable and he could bury himself in his work at the casino.

Then, came the day where his future would be decided. His sister had developed her magic before he did. He ended up being a late bloomer. Her suit was a Spade. Which only made him more nervous. He tried not to let himself be intimidated as his father approached him. They were standing in Inkwell Isle I, where the woods served as good training grounds for the children to practice their magic. He was thirteen when his magic finally matured. He held himself stiffly, trying not to show how anxious and terrified he really was.

His father took a smoke from his cigar with a small hum. He expected the worst. The boy had been making progress, it seemed. Less of a crybaby than he had been before. Even making him good money in the casino…but beyond that, the kid was useless. He didn’t have time to humor liabilities. He sighed. He should have dealt with the kid before this. The only reason the kid was still alive was because the little bastard was quite good at maintaining public relations with the customers. Even as he played them for the suckers that they were.   

Kingsley knew that as well.

His father held up a deck of ordinary cards and tossed them to the boy. Kingsley, eagerly, took them, thrilled to finally get his own deck.

“Impress me.” He said, watching with mild interest.

The boy nodded, an almost manic grin on his face as he freed the cards from their box. This was it. The first step to gaining the respect he so desperately craved. Under his father’s instruction, he infused the cards with his magic. Black eyes turned to a brilliant emerald green as his magic surrounded the deck in his hands. The cards hovered around him. Surrounding him as they gained a life of their own. They would become his soldiers. His army. Like dogs, they would be loyal to their creator until the very bitter end.

He watched as the card began to move on their own as their backs changed to brand them with their new owner’s suit and rank.

The magic clung to them and the boy watched with fascination and pride as his tiny army surrounded his legs happily. He waited for approval…only hear sounds of disgust.

What?

Kingsley panicked, looking down at a sea of the cards in fear. He snatched a few of them up from the ground, ignoring their yelps, as he turned them over.

Hearts.

Every single goddamn card had a heart on them with the rank presented proudly in the center.

In that moment, he had effectively lost any chance he’d had of taking over for their father someday. His chance to wipe those smug looks off of his siblings’ faces…and any chance to seize the respect and power he craved…was crushed.

“King of Hearts” His father said with revulsion…but his voice sounded wrong. More sinister. More monstrous. He looked up and fear and dread turned into horror as he stared up at the creature before him. Corruption and sin tainted his father’s body, twisting his father’s form into something he could barely recognize as the man. He saw the monster that his father truly was on the inside. He cried out in fear and tripped over his own feet as he fell to the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut.

When he dared to open his eyes again, their brilliant green was gone, and his father was back to normal. The man’s back was turned to him. Little cards, freshly brought to life, clung to the young boy, sensing his distress.

What the hell happened?

“A disappointment from start to finish, aren’t ya, boy?” His father scoffed, taking another puff of his cigar. “Can’t say I’m surprised.” He chuckled, and Kingsley watched as his siblings laughed along with him.

“Ya know what we do with Hearts like you?”

No… _No_!

This wasn’t fair! He had worked so _hard_ …

Even his family couldn’t deny his determination.

Beyond his work in the casino, he would go out into the woods to train himself and practice his magic. Being a late bloomer left him with a lot of time to make up for after all, and he wanted to be at his best when it came time to receive his deck.

Bloodied knuckles and broken bones, Dice trained the hardest out of all of them. He fought and trained until his lungs hurt as much as his hands did. He trained until his heart could be as cold as a Club. He trained to be as strong of a fighter as a Diamond. He trained until he could be as vicious as a Spade. He would win that casino and the respect that would come with it.

He demanded sparing time from his siblings and they indulged him only because they found it funny to watch him cry tears of frustration as he lost to each of them…

…Over…

…And over…

…And **_over_** again…

“At these rate, you’re definitely gonna be another Heart!” They teased. And at this rate, he feared that they would be right. He would become another disappointment. Another _dead man walking_.

So, he kept training and training as hard as he could. Nothing would stop him. Not the teasing. Not the punches, cuts, or bruises as his siblings beat him down with every sparing session. Because, maybe, he reasoned, he could change his fate, could change his suit, if he just tried hard enough, right? If he made his heart grow cold enough…right?

“You’ll be a king alright! The King of Hearts!”

And they were _right_.

All that effort…for **_nothing_**. They say that anything can be achieved if one just worked hard enough, right? So, what the hell happened? He had worked hard enough, hadn’t he?

Hadn’t he?

“No!” He yelled, fighting back tears. He rushed towards his father, desperately grabbing onto his suit jacket. “Pops, please! Give me another chance! There must have been a mistake! Let me use another deck, I--” His efforts were rewarded with a smack across the face for his insolence. “Ain’t no mistakes when it comes to these things, boy. You’re a Heart. Ain’t no changin’ that. You’re a failure…just like the rest of them were.” He said, with a sigh.

Those words hurt more than the sting on his cheek. He was silent, a hand over a reddened cheek as he felt the world start to spin.

“With that, I guess it’s time to move this shit show along to the final part of this little milestone.”

The young boy stared up at his father in confusion. The final part? He tensed and felt fear crawl up his spine.

The final part to a Dice receiving their deck was the burning of the hearts. More specifically, the hearts from their deck. It was symbolic. Literally removing any weaknesses **_permanently_** from one’s deck. He’s witnessed it three times so far, when his older brothers and his little sister received their decks. Their magic brought life to their little soldiers. Living beings that were fiercely loyal. He watched as his siblings before him commanded the cards to huddle together in front of them. He watched their confusion as gasoline was thrown onto them. Their little eyes began to realize what was happening and the raw fear in those eyes….

They made little noises of protests, but were barked at to stay in place. They obeyed…even as the match was lit.

It was like listening to the agonized wails of children.

The eldest watched in pride.

The second eldest watched silently, feeling nothing for them.

The youngest of them all just _laughed_.

 

 

* * *

 

He imagined himself in those cards’ position. To be burned along with the other hearts in his deck. Or would they burn his entire deck, too?

Part of him tried to argue that they would never do something so horrible. He was just a _child_ , for god’s sake! But he knew better. And in that moment, he could either keep what little dignity he had by staying and accepting his fate…or he could tuck his tail between his legs and run.

He chose to run. Not that he got very far before he was tackled to the ground. He didn’t even get to fully see the look of disgust on his father’s face at his escape attempt before he found himself drenched in a horrible smelling liquid. He coughed and tried his best to spit out any that had gotten into his mouth.

Gasoline.

He cracked open his eyes as his oldest brother pulled out his lighter. Hands gripping his arms was replaced by his brother’s foot digging into his ribs. Kingsley’s cards huddled around him worriedly, waiting for a command. He was frozen, unable to think as he stared at the small flame of the lighter.

“Kill ‘im.”

His cards acted for him, rushing towards his brother, making him step back and off of the young boy. He reacted, getting up and tackling his brother to the ground.

Things got a bit blurry after that. He remembered wildly clawing at his brother’s face, the soft sound of metal hitting grass, then being surrounded by an angry blaze of orange and red.

 


	2. A Deal with the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait! This chapter ended up being a little longer than I had planned it to be, but thanks SO MUCH to everyone who commented on the last chapter! I didn't really know if people would like it and I’m thrilled to know that people do!

_“Oh, my! Why, brother, dear….who do ya think_ offered _me the job?”_

The Devil watched as those words sunk in, seeing the dread and horror on his, now, ex-manager’s face. He couldn’t help but revel in Dice’s defeat. He had been waiting for this. Waiting for the perfect chance to wipe that grin off of that smug bastard’s face.

Dice wiped the blood from his nose and forced himself to get up, ignoring the protest from his body. He gritted his teeth, not wanting to lose what little dignity he had left. “Why?” He asked.

Confused.

 _Betrayed_.

“I don’t understand… After everythin’ I’ve done for you…for this _business_ …And now you wanna replace me!” He glowered. “You can’t do that! We had a deal!”

“The deal was a job, but ya never specified _what_ job.” He grinned. “Aw, don’t look at me like that! It’s nothin’ _personal_ , Dice. It’s just _business_. But…a deal’s a deal, you know? So, you’ll have a job, still. I think we got an opening for a garbage boy!”

Dice was hot with embarrassment at the offer. When he’d woken up that morning, he never would have expected the day to turn out like this. To suddenly have everything he’d worked tirelessly for…be so casually put into another’s hands. _Her_ hands. Then to have his status stripped down to a mere _garbage_ _boy_? His pride wouldn’t survive it. The Devil knew that. He watched the man squeeze his eyes shut.

“No.” Dice shook his head. Was that a tremble in his voice? Ha! He couldn’t help but grin impossibly wider. “I ain’t about to stand here and let you make a fool outta me. I _quit_.”

Now that…was a surprise.

Dice wasn’t a quitter. The man was nothing if not determined. That’s what made him so _infuriating_. He had wanted nothing more than to tear this mortal down, but he just wouldn’t be stopped. No matter, he pushed through, getting whatever ridiculous task that was asked of him done the best way he could. He had a wit and charm about him that people couldn’t help but like and gravitate to. Even he found himself enjoying the mortal’s company.

His reluctance to just end this mortal’s life and be done with it was the only reason Dice was still alive.

But no…but killing him was not something Dice deserved. Oh no…that would be too easy. He wanted to make Dice _hurt_. And the man’s pride was his greatest weakness…but it was also why it was so goddamn hard to knock him down and make him stay down.

Dice wasn’t a quitter, so that meant if the Devil wanted his payback, he had to hit a little closer to home. To which, he had no real idea of how to do that.

And maybe he kept getting caught up in all that charm that he’d lost focus on his plan. He had let Dice get close to him. Befriend him. And it was too easy to believe that Dice was someone that he could trust.

He was always there, no matter what. Whether it was taking about nothing or offering a shoulder to cry on.

But deep down, he knew better.

He’s been burned before, and he’d be damned if he let this mortal get away with it.

And when Miss Naomi Dice came waltzing into his office, it was an opportunity he just couldn’t pass up. He’d done it. He’d shaken that cool exterior and left Dice practically _quaking_ in his boots. So, he watched with glee as Dice turned away, only to disappear through one of his portals.

Dice had lost _everything_. He had dedicated so much to the casino, that he’d left himself with nothing to fall back on.

Now, he was _nothing_.

Finally, the Devil thought…

 ** _Revenge_**.

  

* * *

 

 

Satan

Beelzebub

The Prince of Darkness

The Devil, _himself_.

Lucifer had heard them all. He’s gone by many names over the course of mortal history. It was amazing how many silly little names mortals could come up with. It was even more amazing how many stories were told about him, one more ridiculous than the other. He was certain his brothers were helping to taint his image. All because he didn’t find Father’s little creations all that charming. He knew what those little shits were capable of and refused to treat them as if they were better than him.

And sure, maybe he had planned a rebellion against his father, but that wasn’t the point.

Either way, his brothers ratted him out and the next thing he knew, he was stripped of his halo and, quite literally, fell from the only home he had known. Banished to an underworld below where his father’s precious mortals resided. White robes and beautiful white wings permanently stained black from the ash and fire. His natural beauty was ripped away from him, body distorted and deformed to reflect the monster that his father saw him as.

And he was _pissed_.

He didn’t believe that he was a monster. He believed that _he_ had been right…

But fine.

If father only saw him as nothing more than this demon, then that’s what he would be. He was bound to this fiery wasteland, unable to truly escape it, thanks to his brothers. But he made the most of it. He created Hell and for many millennia, he reveled in tainting Father’s mortals. Watching as his seven sins turned the world to chaos. War, murder, greed, lust, death, and _oh_ , the _misery_. It was what the little roaches deserved. And the ones who embraced his corruption fell to Hell, where they would be tortured or join his army of demons to go back out to pester more mortals on the surface. And the vicious cycle would continue.

And it was _great_ …for a while, at least.

But when you lived forever, it got to the point where he’d seen pretty much _everything_. Even messing with mortals became boring. His travels to the mortal world were limited anyway, as he wasn’t able to leave Hell for long. He was tired of running Hell. Now, it was just a mess of paperwork as he struggled to maintain _some_ sort of order down there. The total chaos got annoying real fast once he grew out of his rebellious years, and trying to organize made him want to set the whole place on fire.  

He wanted _freedom_. He had longed for it for centuries, with no hope for a way out.

That was…until he’d stumbled across an interesting new addition to his horde of the damned.

A goat child. He looked around twelve with a curious set of burns along the right side of his face and body. The burns were worse on the boy’s hands.

Huh.

They say that people are never born bad. That children were innocent until molded otherwise.

And that was true, but plenty of children fell victim to the latter situation. While children may never be born that way, some are left so damaged that they never recover. Lucifer had seen plenty of damaged children grow into damaged adults. All with various results. And many without being willing or able to seek proper help.

But when a sinful child dies, it always made thing complicated when it came time for Judgement. No angel wants to send a child to _Hell_ , of all places. Lucifer never cared. A rotten soul was rotten. Age didn’t matter.

Regardless, it was a rarity when a child was sent to Hell.

He had been walking through the pits when the child fell into his realm. He had fallen in front of him, actually. Hitting the ground that hard had knocked the boy unconscious. He raised a brow. Quite harsh for the angels to throw a kid down here like that. Usually, an angel would make the journey down to hell in person, dramatically and tearfully handing over a child to the demons that stood guard by the gates.

So, what was so different about this one?

**_Oh_ …!**

He could see the darkness seeping from this child’s heart. His rebelliousness. His _anger_ for the world. God, it was _wonderful_.

It was in that moment, that he’d thought up an idea. Hell needed a ruler that would be bound to this place like he was. Perhaps it was possible to sucker someone into taking his place.

Someone young and _impressionable_.

Would it work? He wasn’t sure, but it was worth a try. Especially if it meant being able to leave this place.

Oh yes. This boy would be one of his most ambitious projects _yet_.

 

* * *

 

 

Before he was the Devil that the people of Inkwell knew and feared, he was born a mortal, just like any other. He was the only child of a couple that lived a few isles over from Inkwell. They lived in the more rural areas of the isle and young Luther was known as quite the troublemaker. “That boy is troubled.” They’d say and the people around in town weren’t exactly discreet about their distaste for the boy. But, when they suddenly went weeks without that boy barreling through and leaving a mess of destruction in his wake or having to watch him fight with the police officers trying to drag him back home… _again_ …people realized that something might be wrong. No one even saw the boy’s parents.

Then, word spread about a suspicious house fire.  

When Luther woke up in Hell, staring face to face with the literal _Devil_ himself, he didn’t think it would be to an offer of a lifetime. The young pre-teen wasn’t surprised that he was in Hell, but he didn’t expect to be welcomed quite like this. The Devil’s monstrous appearance nearly gave him a heart attack (not that it would have mattered at that point) and after shapeshifting into something less intimidating, the Devil took him on a tour through Hell. He couldn’t help but be suspicious. Wasn’t he supposed to be…you know…punished? Or something? He wasn’t sure what he had fallen into, but he was sure this wouldn’t end well. He didn’t even remember much of his last few moments alive. He remembered an angry blaze of red and orange…he had tried to get out…then he had woken up here.

Not knowing what else to do, he just played along as he followed the Devil through Hell, watching as the demons roamed the place, making life truly hellish for the poor bastards trapped down here. He couldn’t help but stare.

Lucifer grinned at the boy’s fascination. Oh yes, that evil little heart of his would be perfect. It needed some work, but he had nothing else better to do. Well, he did, but those things weren’t _interesting_. Not like this had the potential to be.  

Luther followed the Devil all the way to the throne room. The boy’s eyes lit up in wonder, watching as the Imps nearly tripped over themselves to await their master’s command. He wanted it. _All of it_.

“You like what you see, boy?” Lucifer asked, turning to face the child. His grin should have raised some red flags, but Luther was too caught up in the glamour of tyrannical power. Luther could only nod and Lucifer’s grinned widened. “ _Good_!” He suddenly gestured towards the throne. “Take a seat.”

The boy paused, eyeing the Devil warily.

Lucifer put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Come on. I know you want to.”

“Why do you want me to, sir? Ain’t that your seat?”

“It wasn’t a question, boy. Take. A. Seat!” He exclaimed, pushing the boy closer. Luther faltered for a moment before walking up the large stairs. He had to jump just to reach the seat, but eventually managed to squirm into the giant chair.

In that instant…he felt… _powerful_. Just by sitting here, looking down at the Imps and all of Hell. He couldn’t help but grin, going starry-eyed as he imagined having all of this for himself.  

“Glad to hear it!” Lucifer said suddenly, causing Luther to jump up, only to be forced back down by clawed hands digging into his shoulders. “Uh…What?”

“This place…this position and _power_ …you want it, don’tcha? What if you could have it? _All_ of it?”

The boy narrowed his eyes, trying to lean out of the Devil’s grasp. “Yeah right! You expect me to believe that you’d just hand this place over to me? Just like that? A kid no less?”

“Ya better believe it, boy! This is a once in a lifetime deal!”

“No offense, mister, but I got an idea how you work. What’s the catch?”

“The catch?” Lucifer only grinned impossibly wider. “The _catch_ , my boy, is that Hell will be yours! All the responsibilities and _power_ that comes with becoming the new Devil! You see, I’ve grown weary of this place and I’m due for a change in scenery. I’ve been looking for someone like you for a while now. Someone that can take care of this place for me in my absence.”

The boy frowned. “And what if I say no?” Lucifer’s lips twitched. He snatched the boy up by the back of his shirt collar. The boy gasped and tried his best to struggle out of the demon’s grasp. Lucifer moved forwards, hovering in front of the large window behind his throne. Luther groaned in pain as his face was forced against the glass. He cracked opened his eyes and looked down. It was a rather impressive view of Hell. He watched as demons roamed, making the trapped souls weep and scream as they tortured them.

His heart raced in his chest. “That could be _you_ down there.” Lucifer said, voice far too close to his ear for comfort. A shiver ran down the boy’s spine.

“Listen, kid,” He said, clearly short on patience. “you’ve only got two options here. You can either take my offer…or you can go down there where you’ll be forced to pay for your sins for the rest of **_eternity_**.” He dropped the boy onto the ground unceremoniously. The fallen angel returned to his throne, as it rotated to face the pre-teen. “Well, boy? What’ll it be?”

Luther tried not show fear as he pushed himself off of the ground. “What do I need to do?” He asked, knowing that anything was better than enteral torture.

With a snap of his fingers, a contract and a freshly dipped quill appeared before him. “All ya gotta do is sign on the dotted line, kid! Do that and this whole place will be _yours_. In time, of course. Gotta take some time to get ya ready to take over, you know.”

Luther swallowed thickly but did as he was told. The moment the deed was done, the contract rolled up and out of existence, along with the quill. “Excellent!” The demon cackled as darkness flooded the room.

The boy panicked and struggled to outrun the darkness that rose up like smoke. It surrounded him, filled his throat and lungs until he felt like he could barely breathe. It stained his soul, and he cried out in pain as it burned away any shred of humanity that he had, turning him into demon like the Devil himself.

“How do you feel?” Lucifer asked, stepping up to stand by the boy’s side.

Luther opened his eyes, baby blue eyes turned to red. The boy stood, his own wicked smile mirroring the Devil’s own.

“I feel… ** _powerful_**.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lucifer reminded Luther that he wouldn’t inherit Hell right away. He was just a child after all. So, Lucifer would be his mentor. He would train him and prepare him to become the next Devil.

After all, as funny as letting a kid turn Hell into chaos, he didn’t want the brat to ruin everything he’d put in place. Not only that, but the kid would easily be overthrown, and it would be disaster if any idiot took the throne. But when the kid was old enough and ready to take over…then finally…

 _Finally_ , he would be able to put these shackles on someone else, binding their soul to this place instead of his. He would be free from this Hellish prison. It was worth a try, at least. It would risky, especially if his brothers found out before the plan was complete, but it was a risk worth taking.

So, he trained the boy to control his new powers. He was arrogant and had a temper on him, but he was a fast learner. And soon, it was time for him to learn about making deals.

He brought his apprentice back to the mortal world, projecting his form as he led Luther through the woods of Isle I. Luther felt like he’d only been gone for months, only to be told that he’s been gone for two years. Without even realizing it, he was now, officially, a teenager. It was jarring, to say the least. He wondered if there was anything left of his home after…

That didn’t matter. He had a new home now. One that he would soon rule over.

 

* * *

 

 

They had been walking for a little while. Lucifer had brought him to Inkwell Isles, probably wanting to keep his young apprentice as far away from his home as possible. No need for bad memories to cause an unwanted distraction after all. Luther listened as Lucifer went over the semantics about deal making.

In the distance, they heard the sound of splashing water.

The boy quickly crouched behind the bushes. His ears twitched as he located the direction of the sound. He carefully peeked through the leaves to see a lake in the distance. More importantly, to see another boy around his age…that was in nothing but his underwear? What on earth was some kid doing half naked in the middle of the woods?

“That’s a good question!”

Luther jumped at the sudden voice, glancing to the side as the Devil gripped his shoulders.  How did he--?

“Like I said, part of being the Devil is the _deals_ , my boy. Souls is what we feed on to get stronger. But souls are not always so easy to get. You gotta get these mortals to _hand_ them over to ya. You can’t just take it. That requires some manipulation on your part. You gotta see what they want and need most and use it against them.”

Luther nodded. “Okay…How do I do that?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes and forced the teenager’s head back to the other boy. “Observe! Tell me, what do you see? What can you tell me about him?”

His apprentice squinted. “Look’s around my age. Maybe a bit younger? Walkin’ around tryin’ to catch his death in nothing but his underwear?”

Lucifer tightened his grip on his chin, causing Luther to let out a fearful whine. “No, you idiot! Go _deeper_!” He hissed. “Your answer might be right there in front of you. It might tell ya more than a mortal ever would initially. Look at him again. What do you _see_?”

Lucifer loosened his grip and Luther moved closer, making sure not to alert the other boy of his presence. The younger boy was washing his clothes, it seemed. He glanced at a dress shirt handing on the nearby tree branch. It was damaged.

 _Burned_.

He winced.

“He’s been playing with fire, I guess? Maybe washing off the soot an’ ash as much as possible.” He muttered. He was met with another tight grip on his shoulder. He tried to look again.

The boy was crying. He was angry. Scared. “Oh.”

His eyes widened. Luther knew that look.

“Now, you’re getting’ it, kid! A young boy, awfully like yourself, is out here…all alone and scared after an incident with a fire…In no hurry to get help?”

“Washing his clothes…to wash away the evidence?”

“Seems like a kid that’s going to be in quite a bit of trouble if he gets caught, don’t you think? Good! This just might be your lucky day! He’ll be desperate for a way out of this little mess. A perfect candidate for your first contract. Be a good lad and Go get his soul for me.” He summoned a contract and handed it his apprentice.

The boy’s eyes widened in excitement, thrilled for the chance to make his first deal. He took the contract eagerly and stuffed it into his pocket. Lucifer shooed him out of the bushes. “Go on, boy. _I’ll be watching._ ” He grinned before shirking back into the shadows.

Luther took a deep breath and made his way towards the other boy.

He put the magic the Devil had given him to use. His body sank through a sudden hole in the ground, reappearing behind a nearby tree.

The other boy stopped and quickly got to his feet. Green eyes looked around in a panic. Luther tensed. He hadn’t heard anything, and he was being careful not to make a sound. There was no way he could have heard him. Movement from the corner of his eye had caught his attention. He looked down to see cards pull themselves from their deck, huddling around the other boy’s feet.

What the hell?

“Ah…it looks like we’ve found ourselves an empath.” Lucifer hummed, voice suddenly beside him. The Devil smirked when his apprentice nearly jumped out of his skin. The boy quickly redirected his attention back towards his target, fearing that he might have made a sound. After a few moments, the other boy’s shoulder’s sagged in defeat. He turned back to the lake, dropping to his knees as he stared down at a pair of slacks. His body shivered slightly, and he dunked the slacks back into the water. Those sentient cards of his clung to his legs, worriedly watching the boy as he rung the water out of the clothing.

Luther glanced beside him, watching as Lucifer studied the target carefully. “An empath?” He whispered, softly. “What’s that?”

“Individuals who possess an curious ability. They’re sensitive to the people around them. Specifically, their feelings and such…They can sense a person’s emotional energy and even feel what that person is feeling. People with true empathy like that is a bit rare, but _this_ boy…is a true rarity.”

“How do ya figure? I mean, I’ve seen people with magic before…though the card thing is new.”

“Yes, but that’s not what makes him special. His magic is weak. It’s a miracle he was even able to animate any of those cards of his. No…it’s the empathy bit. Usually, empaths can only sense other people’s emotions. They can feel it, as well. They’re not common in general, but many of their numbers are cut down because, well…Empaths can easily get so lost in other’s emotions that they lose sight of themselves. And they tend to wear their _own_ hearts on their sleeves. Many are easy targets because of this… Always trying to extend themselves so much. Trying to help the people they know are hurting. Ugh. It makes me sick.” He scowled, disgusted. “But it makes them vulnerable to being used and abused. And many…well, they just can’t handle it.” He continued with a grin and a shrug. “But this one, he can do more than just _feel_. I’ve only met a few empaths that have the power to _see_.”

“See? See what? A person’s emotions?”

“No no. They can get into a person’s head. Look into their hearts and souls…and see who that person is, _truly_ , underneath. Their hopes and dreams. Their worries and fears. Their virtues and their _sins_.” He hummed and noticed Luther’s discomfort. “Don’t worry, my child. Getting his soul will still be easy enough. These types are _especially_ easy to break. It’ll be a tad tricky, sure, but all you have to do is not let that boy get inside your head. Use his powers against them.”

Luther tried not to seem as anxious as he was. If this kid could see all of that…what would he see in him? Would he…No. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus. He dug his nails into the bark of the tree and took a deep breath. “Okay…and how, exactly, do I do that?” He asked, only to find that he was alone once again. He cursed under his breath.

Okay…

He could do this. He knew Lucifer would be watching him and he wouldn’t let some kid with the bullshit power of _feelings_ intimidate him. So, he took a deep breath, using a glamour to hide his scars, before stepping out from behind the tree.  

 

* * *

 

 

“Heya!” He greeted, putting on the best smile he could muster.

Catching him off guard, the mortal spun around, tripping over his cards in the process. The Devil’s apprentice laughed as the younger boy fell onto his bottom. “Sorry, kid! Didn’t mean to scare ya!” He said, jogging towards him. He stopped to stand over him, holding out his hand as the boy stared at him in shock.

Huh. He could’ve sworn that his eyes were green. Must have been a trick of the light. “You gonna take my hand or just stare at me?”

The boy watched him warily, but took his hand. He dusted himself off, his cards moving to stand between them. Luther raised a brow. “These like your little bouncers or somethin’?”

“None of your business. What do you want?”

Luther’s smile twitched in annoyance, but he hoped the other hadn’t noticed. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Name’s Luther and I don’t want nothing. I was just taking a walk…and spotted ya bawlin’ your eyes out by the lake. You’re a long way from home, ain’t ya, city boy?”

The other boy just watched him for a moment. Could he tell he was lying?

Luther resisted shifting anxiously. He didn’t know how this kid’s abilities worked. Could he turn it off and on? Were some emotions easier to sense than others?

After a moment, the boy scoffed. “Maybe I live around here, too.”

“Mighty fancy clothes to be from this homely side of the Isles.” He countered, mentally breathing a sigh of relief.

“Maybe it’s my Sunday best.”

“S‘not Sunday.”

The boy glared daggers at him and Luther just smirked. “You’re gonna have to work on your lying a bit there, pretty boy. Now, why are ya _really_ out here, huh? Because I can make a guess… Seems like you’re in some serious trouble, ain’t ya?”

Turns out, the boy had some fight in him. Even in nothing but his underwear, he’d held up a decent sized stick. Pre-sharpened at the tip to be used as a weapon. He clutched it tightly as he pointed the sharp end dangerously close to Luther’s neck.

“Okay, uh…Look, calm down, kid. I ain’t your enemy here. I’m actually here to help you.”

The other boy narrowed his eyes, pressing the sharp end of that stick into his throat. “And why the hell would ya wanna help a complete stranger, _stranger_?”

“Let’s just say that I used to be in some hot water myself. I met a guy that was able to help me out. Since then, I’ve made it a business, you could say, to help others like yourself.”

The boy didn’t move, only becoming more apprehensive. “You know a guy, huh? What kinda guy?”

Luther shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Just a guy. Real charitable, you know? He can help ya get the heat off of your back.”

“Yeah, sure he can.” He shook his head. “I’m not stupid. Ain’t nothing in this world for free. What does he charge?”

Luther, grinned. “Well… _sure_. He helps you and then you’ll owe him a little I.O.U. You know, depending on what you ask for.”

The mortal narrowed his eyes. “No offense, but I don’t need your help. Or his. I can handle this on my own.”

“No _offense_ , but cryin’ buckets ain’t exactly inspiring a lotta confidence in me, kid.”

The other boy winced and looked away. Ah, so he’d hit a nerve.

“Whatever. I don’t think this guy of yours can help me anyway.” He muttered, lowering his guard. He moved back towards the lake. Those cards of his stayed close by his side, watching the newcomer like a hawk.

“How bad can it be? He knows how to cover up evidence. Get ya off the hook nice and cleanly.” He insisted.

“What are you talkin’ about?” He asked, wringing out the water in his slacks. “I ain’t committed no crime.”

Luther wasn’t convinced. “No? Then what’s a kid like you doing all the way out here by yourself, huh? What are ya? Twelve?”

“I’m thirteen--”

“What’s a thirteen-year-old doin’ out here, crying his eyes out as he desperately washes _something_ out of his clothes? Not only that, but those red patches on your skin…I know what first degree burns look like. Seems mighty suspect to me.”

The younger boy tensed, gritting his teeth in irritation. “Really nosy, aren’t ya? Well, if ya must know…I ran away from home.” He winced. “Or rather…I was run _off_ from home. That’s why I got burns and damaged clothes. As for the washin’ part…Let’s just say that the smell of gasoline was startin’ to make me nauseous.” He mumbled, quickly wiping away the tears that threatened to fall.

At that point, all the young apprentice could do was stare as he processed that information. His eyes narrowed in a mix of shock and growing anger because there’s no way this kid was telling him what he thought he was. His parents…they didn’t…they _wouldn’t_ … He knows shit parents when he sees it, but what heartless bastard would just—

“You can’t be serious.” He said, voice unwittingly taking a hard edge to it. “You’re joking, right? They wouldn’t…”

“They tried…to _burn_ me.” The boy hissed, body trembling from either anger or fear. Perhaps a mix of both.

“What--?”

“You heard me.” He clutched the slacks in his hands tightly. Tears fell from the boy’s face. Luther couldn’t do anything but gawk in bewilderment. What the hell could he say to _that_?  

“And since you like to be so _goddamn_ nosy, I bet you wanna know _why_ , don’t ya?” Before he could say anything, the other boy turned, snatching up one of those cards. He stood, marching up to him with a confused card in tow, practically shoving the back of the card in his face. “You see this? These cards reflect my court and suit on the back of each of ‘em. You know what this says?”

“I don’t, uh--”

“ ** _King of Hearts_**.” The boy said, voice dripping with contempt. Luther took a step back, not sure what can of worms he’d just opened. “I’m guessing that’s a bad thing?” He asked, trying to figure out what was the big deal.

The boy lowered his head, tightening his grip on the card, ignoring its tiny protests. “Most people in my family can wield magic.” He explained. “It determines our courts and suits. My father runs the largest casino in all of Inkwell. It acts as front for all of his illegal business. And it provides a great way to lure in the stupid and desperate to make bad deals and to throw away their money by gamblin’. Our suits determine our position in the business. We usually learn what suit we are when our magic is developed enough to start using a deck. In my case, I was a bit of a late bloomer.”

Luther shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like where this was going. “…So, what’s a Heart good for, then?”

“A King is a man of power and influence! But a Heart, no matter the court…ain’t good for a _goddamn_ thing.” He seethed, dropping the card onto the ground, where it cowered away from him. “Diamonds are strong. They’re the leaders. Clubs are smart. The brains behind the plans. Spades are malicious and sadistic. Hearts? They’re emotional. Vulnerable. A _liability_. And my father ain’t a very toleratin’ man. He couldn’t afford to have me draggin’ the family and the business down. It’s tradition to burn the hearts outta our decks. Destroy any possible burdens, you know? So, they were going to do the same with me…along with all of my cards.” He said, voice dripping with venom. He looked like he was fighting to keep himself together.  

Luther’s anger was bubbling up again with a vengeance. Maybe, just maybe…this was hitting a little close to home.

“I managed to get away. Until they come and find me to finish the job.” The other boy said, moving to bury his face into his knees. After a pause, he glared at the older boy. “Can this guy of yours fix that? Huh?” He asked, bitterly. “Can he turn a Heart into a Diamond? Club? Spades, even! Hell, at this point, I’ll take anything but this. And maybe…maybe _then_ , I can go back. Maybe then I can be useful.” He sighed, staring at his miserable reflection in the water.  

Luther was sure that he was starting to see red. “Go _back_?” He snarled. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? After all of that, you want to make a deal just so you can go crawling _back_ to them?!”

The boy winced and shook his head. “I grew up in that life! What am I without it?” He tapped his Die shaped head. “People will know who I am and who I belong to. I won’t be able to just move on! My only chance to _make_ somethin’ decent of myself is to go back! If I’m not a Heart, then I’ll, at least, have a chance again. That’s the only thing holding me back to them.”

“Oh yeah? ‘Cause going by the look of those old bruises on ya, I’d say you were a failure in their eyes long before the whole Heart thing.” Luther said, harshly.

“Take. That. _Back_.” The younger boy cautioned, glaring at Luther furiously.

Luther knew he should have kept his mouth shut. He knew that he shouldn’t be getting this angry. He shouldn’t _care_ , but yet-- “You wanna go back there and prove what, huh? ‘Cause going back there would only prove that you’re _worthless_! Because after everything they did to you, you’d _still_ come crawling back to them like the sorry piece of--”

He was met with a swift punch to the face.

“Shut up!” The boy cried, going in for another hit.

“There’s no use lyin’ to yourself, kid!” Luther scowled, retaliating with a hit of his own. The other boy reeled back from the punch, wiping the blood from his nose. “Going back to them won’t solve a damn thing! You wanna prove yourself? Going back to grovel like a kicked puppy ain’t the way to do that!” He insisted.

The boy didn’t say anything. He just held his bleeding nose. _Okay…_ Luther thought. _Maybe he’d hit him pretty hard._ Luther let out a sigh of frustration and took a step forward. He reached a hand out to try to offer some form of comfort. A luxury he hadn’t been offered at that age. He shouldn’t be doing this. Part of him wanted to argue that he was just following Lucifer’s advice. Using this kid’s emotions against him. Knock him down so low where he’d give away anything just for a chance at a better life. 

Luther had already gotten him to that point. The kid had been ready to make a deal, but Luther just couldn’t let that slide. Now here he was feeling guilty for making this boy upset. He couldn’t help but see _himself_ in the other.

Back before he’d woken up in Hell.

Part of him didn’t want to sit back and watch something similar happen to this kid.

The boss was going to be _pissed_.

“Look, kid, I--”

“ _Don’t touch me_.”

He let out another frustrated sigh. He didn’t have the patience to deal with a brat with an attitude. “Listen, you little shit, I’m only trying to h--”

His hand made contact with the other boy’s shoulder and almost immediately, he was bombarded by a swarm of cards. Cards that were _a lot_ stronger than they looked. “What the f--? Get off of me!” He barked, trying to tug out of the cards’ grasp as they worked to keep him pinned to the ground. He looked up to find green eyes staring furiously down at him.

Then, that fury transformed into fear. He took a step back and the Devil’s apprentice froze. This boy was staring at him as if he was some sort of… ** _monster_**.

Just like _they_ had.

And in that moment, all he could see were the faces of the two people he hated most.

Lucifer’s words echoed in his head. He could take a guess what this boy was seeing. That expression was an obvious hint to that. His soul was being laid bare in front of some stranger…

And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

The cards, seemingly responding to their master’s fear, let him go, backing up away from him.

He didn’t really notice over the pounding of his heart. Suddenly, everything was going in and out of focus.

_It wasn’t just them…_

_They were right…_

_You_ really _are a…_

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He slapped his hand over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut.

He opened his mouth, angrily screaming for it to stop.

A hand muffled his screams, claws digging painfully into his fur.

“ ** _Silence._** ” Lucifer commanded, and he felt his body go numb.

His boss let him go, letting him fall to the ground. They were back in Hell. More specifically, back in Lucifer’s throne room. He looked up as he struggled to catch his breath.

He saw the fallen angel looming over him.

Well, he was right.

The Devil was absolutely **_livid_** _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some backstory on the Devil that, hopefully, is okay?? I already have the general idea of how this whole story will go and have about seven or so chapters planned out already. The plan is to get the future chapters out in a (somewhat) timely manner!  
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> (Also, if there are any mistakes, please let me know!)


	3. On the Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter ended up MUCH longer than I had wanted it to be, so I decided to cut the chapter into two parts. So, sorry for the short chapter this time, but this is part one, while part two will be posted later. And part two will be longer, I promise!

The moment he had used his magic, the world around him had _changed_.

Everything had lost its color and in Luther’s place was some sort of _monstrosity._

There was a bright, _angry_ red spreading from the monster’s chest to the rest of its body like some sort of _infection_. Its body was contorted and twisted unnaturally to create its massive form. A gaping shark toothed mouth with duplicates littered throughout its body. Sharp claws and a hulking mass that towered over him. And he was nearly blinded by the burst of flames that surrounded it, threatening to consume it whole.

And he was frozen in place, rendered paralyzed as he stared at that _thing_ before him.

It radiated hatred and _rage._

Its wrath washed over him, borrowing itself into his heart and soul until his body was trembling under its weight. It spread through his body like a weed, wrapping around him and anchoring him to the ground so he couldn’t escape.

And, lurking underneath all that ire, had been something else. Something that had made his heart _ache_ with a sense of anguish that was almost too much to bear.

It was a familiar ache. One of enmity and resentment.

And underneath even that, was a sense of _fear_. As if the creature was afraid of what it had become.

Or what it had done.

Blood red tears had run down the beast’s face, burning a path into the skin as it fell and blending into the wounds that already scarred the left side of its face.

His vision went blurry.

And he suddenly became aware that he was _crying._

Tears cascading down his cheeks.

But, that spite and that misery and that _fear_ were **_not_** _his own_.

Yet, those feelings burned through his body, drowning him in the madness.

Leaving him gasping and wheezing as he struggled to hold on before he lost track of where the creature’s emotions ended and his began.

It was all too much.

He squeezed his eyes shut and wailed as he cried for that, whatever the hell _that_ even was, to just **_stop_** ,

As his screams had mixed with another’s.

And then, just as quickly as it started, that bombardment of emotions had been ripped away from him, leaving him empty and on the verge of being ill.  

His legs had buckled underneath him, and he’d fallen to his knees, sucking in ragged breaths as his heart throbbed painfully in his chest. The world around him had begun to spin and it had vaguely occurred to him that that other boy was gone.

That was so much worse than when that had happened the first time with his father. He had remembered feeling so _cold_ as he stared at that twisted form in front of him.

_Disgusted_.

_Disappointed_.

But it was _nothing_ like what he’d just experienced.  

Why was this happening?

What _were_ those things?

_Demons_? _Monsters_?

Why were they there? What were their connections to that boy or his father?

Why could he see them?

Why could he _feel_ what _they_ felt?

He couldn’t make sense of any of it and wasn’t sure that he really wanted to. He just wanted this to stop, whatever _this_ was.

His body had been trembling, and he had barely noticed his army of cards surrounding him. They patted at his arms and legs, desperately trying to snap him out of it. He had paid them no attention as his mind raced with questions he had no answers to.

Both times, those visions had been triggered when he used his magic, distorting his view of the world.

But he didn’t know how or why.

He’s never heard of such an ability before. His family’s magic allowed them specific control over their cards, but _that_?

Was that something only Heart suits possessed?

Or was it just him?

He didn’t know, and it wasn’t like he had anyone he could ask.

He was on his own.

 

* * *

 

 

He narrowed his eyes as he dragged himself out of his thoughts. He’d rather not think about any of that right now. He had more important things to worry about now.

He kept his head down, subtly paying close attention to the people around him.

After that incident, he had decided that he had to leave Inkwell. His family hadn’t found him yet, but he knew they would come looking for him. He couldn’t afford to take any chances.

The problem was that _everyone_ knew who the Dice family were, so finding help was out of the question. With no resources or assistance, he knew it wouldn’t be long before his family tracked him down.

So, he’d tugged on his damp clothes and made his way into the city. Thankfully, it had been getting dark. He used the darkness to help him navigate the city without being easily recognized. He kept looking over his shoulder, looking for any sign of his relatives.  

He was a deadman if they found him. That was for certain.

He didn’t have much of a plan beyond getting the hell out of Inkwell as quickly as possible. He knew that goods were brought in and out of the island through the docks on Isle III. The ships that handled those imports and exports were owned by the Brineybeard family.

And he knew them.

Though, that wasn’t a good thing.

His family had forced the captain to bring in and send out illegal contraband for them. Mainly drugs and weapons. His father would bring him and his siblings along to help oversee the unloading of the goods in the cover of night. All for the sake of preparing them for their future in the family business.

So, he’s been on their ship a few times before. He wouldn’t be welcomed, of course, but he hadn’t been concerned about that. He just needed a place to hide for the night and have a means to get off the Island. He didn’t even know where they were scheduled to travel to the next morning, but anywhere was better than here.

The walk towards Isle III wasn’t a pleasant one.

He felt like he’d been walking forever, and he was sure the constant worry of getting caught had taken ten years off his life.

By the time he’d made it to the docks, he’d been exhausted.

Regardless, he had made it there with little incident. He glanced around, making sure no one was around before making his way to one of the ships.

And, _of_ _course_ , the damn thing had been locked. And by chains and a pad lock, no less.

He pulled out his deck. He’d watched his siblings train with their respective deck enough to know a few things he could command his cards to do. 

Beyond bringing these beings to life, they could manipulate their bodies to change their forms.

Make them more durable, stronger, faster…

Make them larger, as big as their magic could support,

Even make them as hard as stone or as sharp as an axe.

So, he’d tried to break the chains, grabbed a card, concentrating before slamming it against the chains.

Which, in hindsight, would have been a poor move had it actually worked. It would have left obvious evidence that someone had broken in.

But one could expect to be a little irrational after the day he’s had.

Regardless, despite _seeing_ his siblings do it, he never _actually_ learned how to do anything more than bring the little things to life.

He had planned to learn once he’d gotten his deck…but, of course, _that_ hadn’t gone to plan.

So, his attempts only garnered him the pained whimpers from his Ace of Hearts and a half crumpled up card.

But he tried and tried until he was red in the face and half of his deck were in various states of disarray.

As he tossed one failed card after the other onto the ground, they’d huddled together, offering each other comfort after their misuse. They made soft noises of protest at their mistreatment, cowering when he glared down at them. “Hush!” He hissed. “It’s your own damn faults for bein’ _useless_!”

He sighed, in exasperation. This wasn’t working, that was clear. Which meant that he would be forced to wait until morning to sneak inside while the workers were busy loading the supplies.

Which…meant resigning himself to sleeping under the docks for the night.

In the cold.

In the _mud_.

He cursed under his breath, throwing the rest of his deck on the ground in irritation before making his way back to the docks, abandoning his cards by the ship. But, as expected, they merely picked themselves up and quickly ran after their leader.

He walked to the edge and climbed down, trying not to leave any noticeable footprints.

The moment he landed, he groaned. As if the mud wasn’t bad enough, there was garbage and rotting vegetation down there.

He scrunched his nose up in disgust.

For a few moments, he just stared at the poor conditions around him. Idly aware of his cards jumping down from the docks and into the mud below.

He wasn’t entirely sure if he could sink any _lower_ at that point.

He had felt anger boil inside of him.

This was what he’d been reduced to? Seeking shelter under the docks like some street bum? He was meant to be among the swells, looking _down_ on such people…not _become_ one of them!

But any chance he had for even _mediocre_ success had been ripped away from him. Cursed from birth by some holier than thou pompous bastard in the clouds.

He scowled, audibly grounding his teeth together.

He glanced down, seeing his cards waddle past him. Some of them giggled as they rolled around in the mud like animals. He looked towards the water, finding some others excitedly watching the water crash against the bank with child-like fascination.

What the hell was wrong with them? They acted like they’d never seen—

Oh.

He supposed that they _had_ just been created that day, so of course everything would seem new to them.

He watched them as they played in seemingly blissful ignorance. Viewing the world with fresh innocent eyes. Though he wasn’t sure how. Didn’t they understand everything that had happened? The gravity of their situation?

This had to be one of the _worst_ days of his entire life and yet, here they were, laughing as if there wasn’t a mark on all of their heads.

They were so _happy_.

And he _hated_ it.

He balled his hands into fists and for one **_awful_** moment, he believed that it wasn’t _fair_ that they got to be so joyful.

While he _suffered_.

They’d only gotten a _taste_ of how harsh life could be and how harsh it _would be_ from there on out.

Maybe he should show them.

Because how _dare_ they get to rejoice while he feared for his life?

He had lost control over everything in his life…everything except for his ever faithful cards. And he knew he had the power to crush their happiness. Just like _that_.

And he reasoned that he could and _should_ take his anger out on them. If they hadn’t damned him with those hearts on their backs, then maybe… _maybe_ …

But **_no_**.

So, now he was alone, running for his life.

And for another, **_terrible_** , moment, he thought about making them feel just as **_bad_** as _he_ did.

And he _knew_ he could get away with it.

His loyal army.

Who would always serve their creator…no matter how much he _hurt_ them.

They were _nothing_ without him and it ensured that they would always stay.

No matter _what_.

And for another, **_horrible_** , moment, he had turned to them, barking at them to come to him.

He had watched as his ever devoted soldiers rush towards him, standing at attention by his feet. They had stared at him attentively, waiting for their next orders.

Though, their faces quickly turned into worry and fear when they saw his fury. They trembled, unable to hide their trepidation, but they didn’t move.  

And for once, he’d felt **_powerful_**.

In that moment, he’d felt like his father, who would have struck them down without a second thought. Just as he had done with his own children.

Just as had had done to _him_.

And, in that moment, all of his could think of was himself being in those cards' positions. How he’d looked up to his father, wanting nothing more than to impress him.

But it wasn’t enough.

It was _never_ enough.

Foreign feelings of fear and confusion pushed at the edges of his mind.

And suddenly he felt bile rise in the back of his throat.

He buried his head in his hands, sinking down onto his knees.

And he sat there and just _wept_. His shoulders shaking with his barely contained sobs.

He couldn’t do it.

He _wouldn’t_ do it.

And as he grew more and more frustrated with himself, he began to understand why Hearts suits were useless.

Nothing more than a _burden_.

He then became aware of multiple little bodies surrounding him, holding onto his legs as tightly as they could. He looked up to see his cards looking up at him, silently wondering what they had done wrong.

He could feel their concern and their guilt at the back of his mind. And he narrowed his eyes in confusion.

He could feel what _they_ felt, too? Even without using his magic? But this wasn’t like before with Luther and his father. The world remained the same and so did his cards. And the flood of feelings were now dulled down, only gently prodding at the back of his head.

He had let out a cry of frustration. He didn’t want to deal with this right now. He didn’t want to deal with _any_ of this right now. He turned away, getting up to move away from his deck. He laid down on the driest part of the ground that he could. He held his knees to his chest, shivering in the cold night air.

“I want to be alone.” He mumbled, curling tighter into himself. A moment passed before he found himself covered in the little creatures, huddling close to try to help warm him up. Being cards, living or not, they didn’t emit any body heat. So, were essentially useless in actually warming him up.

But the thought was there.

And he could feel their worry for him and their determination to help him radiate off them in waves.

Even after what he almost did to them…

He didn’t deserve them and he wished they would just leave him to rot in his own misery.

But they didn’t budge, staying by his side until he had quietly cried himself to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

When he woke, he had found himself congested. Which was expected when one slept outside all night in semi-wet clothes.

But that was just something else that he could add to the long list of everything that was going wrong for him lately.

More importantly, however, he could hear the Brineybeard family and their crew above him. It sounded like they were already in the process of loading the ship with supplies.

He bolted upright, waking the cards that had, apparently, been using him as a pillow throughout the night. The made noises of confusion and he quickly shushed them. He quickly pushed himself to his feet and held out his hand towards them. The cards nodded, quickly stacking themselves onto his hand. He tucked the deck into his back pocket and waited for the chance to sneak aboard without being seen.

And he had managed to do so successfully. Maybe he did have _some_ luck on his side. For once. And he had managed to hide himself behind the boxes of various goods and supplies, staying hidden until the boat set sail.

Which is how he found himself on the Isles of Gouache. A series of islands located a few Islands over from Inkwell.

Maybe here, he’d hoped, he would be safe. Maybe here, he would be able to start over.

 

* * *

 

 

It was busier than usual today, he thought as he navigated his way through the crowded streets of Gouache Isle II.

He glanced up when a man passed by him, having a heated chat with another man about something or another. He hadn’t really been paying attention. Their conversation wasn’t significant.

All that mattered was that they were too busy focusing on trying to out talk each other, to notice him.

Too distracted to realize that he had been following just a _tad_ too close.

And too preoccupied to notice that their pockets had suddenly become a _little_ bit lighter.

After sneaking off of the Brineybeards’ ship, he had quickly found himself alone in a place that was totally foreign to him.

But he had to adapt. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

So, with a few stolen apples from the Brineybeards’ ship, he disappeared into the alleys of Gouache Isle II.

And, that’s how he found himself living on the streets, reduced to pickpocketing strangers in order to afford some clean clothes, a coat, some food (luckily the cards didn’t eat), and some cough syrup.

Because, of course, spending just _one_ night outside had riddled him with a cold.

He flipped up the collar of his coat and kept his head low as he turned to quickly, but quietly duck into the nearest alleyway. He tucked the men’s wallets into his pockets as he did so.

_No_ , he thought to himself as he jogged back to the part of the alleys that he called “home”. _He really **couldn’t** sink any lower than this._

Once he had been a good distance away from the street, he slowed down to a more comfortable pace. He pulled out the wallets, pocketing the cash and tossing the wallets in the garbage.

He was glad to be away from the crowd. This whole “feeling other people’s emotions” thing seemed to be something that he couldn’t shut off. Not fully, anyway. And while it was _far_ worse whenever he used his magic, the onslaught of emotions from so many people at once was too much to handle.

Their emotions all blended together and trying to block it all out had started to give him a headache. He soon had to buy a bottle of soothing syrup just to keep the constant headaches down.

He couldn’t live like this. He felt like he was going crazy.

He groaned, running a hand down his face. He needed a distraction.  

He pulled out some cash as he neared his “home”, counting his haul for the day. By the time he’d noticed the unknown feeling of resentment press at the back of his mind, he’d walked right into someone.

“Howzit goin’, Rag-a-muffin!”

And he’d let out a yelp, tightening his grip on the cash immediately, quickly shoving it back into his pocket as he jumped back and away from the intruder.

“Fancy seein’ _you_ again, city boy!” Luther grinned, using what little height advantage he had to loom over him. “You know…I think you and I need to have a little _chat_.”

His heart dropped.

He gawked at the other boy and before Luther even got a chance to make a snide remark on his silence or the look of fear on his face,

He’d whipped his body around,

And _ran_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be up soon! It's actually already written, just needs to be edited. That will when the plot will really start to kick off. So, until then, have some more Angry and Sad!Dice (I swear things will start to get better for him in the next chapter)!  
> Thanks again for all the wonderful comments and thank you so much for reading!
> 
> (And if there are any mistakes, let me know!)


	4. Nothing Personal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit long...despite my efforts to shorten it, so apologies in advance! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> And feel free to talk to me/ask questions about this (very weird) story!  
> https://thisiswheretrashgoes.tumblr.com

Running away...

He, of all people, had tucked his tail between his legs and _ran_.

Like a goddamn _coward_.

The sheer embarrassment of if all…the _humiliation_ of being knocked down by the hands of his sister…

In front of the Devil, his staff, and the customers? It was almost too much to handle.

He needed to get out.

Running on pure adrenaline, heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to keep his composure, he teleported to his suite. His cards followed close behind. His vision blurred at the edges and it hurt to breathe.

“Grab the essentials.” He wheezed. “Quickly now!”

The cards, ever resilient, did as they were told despite being worn from battle themselves. They scattered throughout the room, dragging the suitcase that Dice had used to move into his room all those years ago from under his bed. They worked quickly, packing Dice’s clothes and anything else they thought was important. Toiletries that was on his bathroom counter were haphazardly push into the suit case as Dice limped to the other side of the room. He leaned against the wall, grabbing a bottle of whiskey, he downed half of the bottle in one go, hoping it was numb the searing pain in his side.

“Grab my gun.” He rasped, pointing towards his night stand. The cards rushed towards the drawer, pulling out the weapon and its ammunition before tossing it into the suitcase as well.

He patted his pockets to make sure that his brass knuckles and wallet were in place.

Sucking in a ragged breath, he gestured for the cards to huddle up around him. They zipped the suitcase closed and all of them worked together to drag the luggage towards their boss.

He tensed, hearing a muffled conversation moving closer and closer to his room. A black hole opened underneath their feet and they fell through before they could be seen.

They fell through a black abyss that seemed never ending, unable to escape until Dice willed it.

There really wasn’t anywhere for them to go now, was there? He had given all that he had for that hell hole. He had nothing without it.

How foolish.

He should have known better. He should have planned for this…but he had allowed himself to get _comfortable_. Deluded himself into thinking that his life as the “King of the Casino” would last forever.

What had gone wrong? His performance as manager was impeccable as always, he was certain of it. The casino was his pride and joy. He would never let himself slip. He made sure things ran smoothly and efficiently. He made sure that the staff was productive and satisfied, the imps were being managed, and the customers were kept happy…well, until they _lost_ , but that was to be expected.

Their profits were high and the soul contracts he’d negotiated for the Devil were numerous.

So _why_?

To get sacked out of the blue like this? And replaced! Just like that! As if everything he’d done for the place meant _nothing_!

It was like a knife straight to the chest.

He shook his head. He had to focus or else they’d be falling forever. He looked up and another portal opened up below them.

They were unceremoniously spit out onto a hard surface, pain shooting up his side when he made contact. He bit tongue to keep himself from crying out in pain. He opened his eyes and found himself on the floor of the Die House located between Isles I and II.

These little houses had actually been his idea. The Devil let him handle public relations, which meant keeping tabs on the comings and goings of the Isles’ inhabitants. The houses served as a physical reminder to the city folk that the Devil’s right-hand man was always watching them.

As of now, it was the only place he had left. Of course, as the new manager—

 _Oh_ , the thought of that just made him positively **_sick_**.

—his sister would be expected to monitor these houses in his place. So, it was very possible that she would show up at some point. But for now, he would just have to take that chance, at least for today. He had limited options and he wanted nothing more than to just sleep.

Let his brain shut down and rest for a few, precious, hours,

Forget the pain.

And forget how his heart just _ached_.

He heard the soft pitter patter of his cards as they moved around, working together to lock down the doors to make sure he would be safe.

Bless them.

His fingers twitched and, as his vision blurred in and out, he realized that he didn’t have that whiskey bottle anymore.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Beaten, bloodied, and bruised…

Pathetic.

He closed his eyes, the world around him going silent. That pleased grin on the Devil’s face was burned into his memory as he singlehandedly ripped his livelihood away from him.

 _Why_? He asked, still trying to make sense of it all.

When he’d first started working at the casino, their relationship had had a rocky start. Which was to be expected. The Devil himself had just lost a game of cards to a mere mortal. So, he expected the demon to be a little bitter. But, over the years, they had grown closer.

That was the plan…at first.

Just another step on the ladder to reach his goal.

And over the years, he had inched his way closer. Carefully and methodically pulling apart the demon’s barriers piece by piece.

Until, somehow, he’d lost track of it all.

Two beings, cast out of home for what they were, struggling to find their place in the world.

He’s never asked about the Devil’s fall from Heaven after his banishment and in return, the Devil never asked him about his past either.

A silent understanding of each other without ever discussing those topics outloud.

And talking to him was just as easy as talking to an old friend.

He remembered the shared drinks, friendly bets, and the inside jokes.

Watching, with pride, as people lost everything.

Celebrating the rising success of the casino year after year.

Then, one night. When the days dragged on, the customers were particularly troublesome, and everything had just become too much, he’d found himself in the Devil's office. Just the two of them. And it was far from eloquent or _romantic._ It was quick, needy, and desperate for some sort of relief from the stress of the week.

And then, a one night stand, became a regular occurrence. Just a way to relieve stress. But then they would linger after it was done longer and longer, each time, until they’d woken up to the sun’s rays together.

And they would lie together still, talking about nothing and everything.

Soft kisses and gentle touches. Just enjoying each other’s company.

Until work forced them out of bed.

And he had never cared for whimsical things like romance before. His work was far too important, hardly leaving any room for anything else.

Yet somehow, in the end, _he_ was the one that fell for the Devil. He had given him his heart before he’d even realized what was happening.

He was evil. He was cunning.

He was _terrifying_ , in a way that made shivers run down his spine in all the best ways.

The twisted grin as he struck fear in others and the softer ones reserved just for him.

And then, there was his laugh. A deep chuckle that reverberated through his body or the more lively ones after a particularly “good” joke.

Because he, honestly, had a terrible taste in jokes. But, somehow, he’d fallen for him all the same.

And by the time he’d woken up one morning and looked at the demon’s sleeping form and _realized_ ,

It was far, _far_ , too late.

He’d fallen for his own lie.

How careless.

He knew better than to fall for such a being. He knew better than to believe that someone like him could _ever_ feel the same.

Heart suits were slaves to emotions and despite knowing better, he’d still fallen victim to his nature in spite of his best efforts.

How _silly_ of him to stand by and hope that _the Devil_ would _actually_ —

Well, obviously not. The bastard had been all too happy to toss him out onto the streets.

Only to stand there and _grin_ like it was all nothing but a _joke_ to him.

Waiting until he was properly and _frustratingly_ infatuated….

Waiting until he had broken down and acknowledged, if only to himself, that what he felt was _more_ than that…

Before throwing him away like _garbage_.

What had he done to deserve this?

…Was this what heartbreak felt like? He wondered, turning his head to the side.

He spotted his bottle of whiskey on its side and, luckily, within arm’s reach.

He reached out for it, hoping that he could drown himself in the stuff until this horrible throbbing in his chest stopped.

Until it turned his brain to mush and everything went _numb._

 

* * *

 

 

He shouldn’t be here.

After the last encounter with that kid, Lucifer had been less than pleased.

_“Your first contract was **supposed** to be easy! And yet, you couldn’t handle **one** teenaged **brat**? I’ve already invested two years on you, boy. Don’t tell me that I made a mistake in choosing you as my successor.” He’d growled, gripping his jaw hard enough to leave bruises. _

His first contract with a supposedly easy target, only to do the _worse_ thing he could have done in that situation.

 _Sympathize_ with the target.

He couldn’t help it. He knew how he’d felt before his death. When he was living with those people he could hardly call his family. How _they’d_ made him feel day after day…

And it never got better.

And he’d grown sick and tired of being in that prison. So, he’d decided to do something about it.

He couldn’t imagine ever going back, even if there was something to go back to. And after what this kid’s family tried to do, _how_ could he have even _thought_ of going back to them?

Could he have really just sat back and let this boy walk back to those people?

 _“I didn’t make a mistake, **did I**?”_ He scowled and Luther had quickly did his best to assure his boss that he would do better. It was his first attempt at this whole contract business. He just needed some time to figure out what he was doing.

All he needed was time and soon, he would start bringing in those contracts. And, Lucifer had, quite generously, given him a month to make substantial progress.

So, he tried to just turn his back on that whole incident and busy himself with looking for for _actual_ easy targets. He had to start collecting some contracts and soon. Lucifer was not someone he wanted to piss off again.

Otherwise, he could end up with the rest of the damned, being tortured for the rest of eternity. And Lucifer had, so helpfully, reminded him that he could make his time in Hell _very_ miserable.

And while, Luther wasn’t a fan of anyone telling him what to do, he decided that he would have no choice but to stay on the Devil’s good side. After all, soon _he’d_ be the one in charge of Hell. He could afford to be a little patient…for now.

But collecting contracts was proving to be…difficult.

It had been a little over a week and he was still empty handed.

Okay, so _maybe_ he wasn’t exactly all that _charming_ …

…Or good with people in general.

Threats coming from a fourteen year old didn’t really work all that well with adults, and magic and spells wouldn’t work either. Lucifer said that a mortal had to _willingly_ hand over their souls. Sure, they could be tricked into it, but that could only be done without outright _lying_ to them about it. He had to have a slick tongue and a quick wit. He needed to use loopholes to his advantage and outwit his target, twisting their words and using it against them.

It was harder than it seemed, especially when one lacked “people skills”. He only had a month and he knew his boss was quickly losing patience with him.

It probably didn’t help that he kept getting distracted.

He couldn’t get that kid out of his head.

He just couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d _looked_ at him.

What had he seen?

He wasn’t entirely certain that he wanted to know the answer. What if everything his family had said about him was… _right_?

Or maybe, in the end, he had actually let them turn him into the very thing he never wanted to be?

Ugh.

Now was not the time to be having an existential crisis, but he just had to know.

No matter the answer.

So, he sought him out, convincing some of his boss’ imps to help sniff him out by promising sweets as payment.

Which is how he found himself a few islands over, wondering how the hell that kid even got all the way over here on his own.

But, the imps led him straight to the kid.

And _maybe_ he was a little relieved that the little bastard was still alive.

He kept his distance. He didn’t want to be detected before he could figure out what to do. So, he sat on the roof of a nearby apartment building, watching the boy navigate the city. Yeesh, the kid lived on the streets now? He sighed. He just needed some answers and then he would drop this whole thing entirely.

He watched as the kid ducked into the alleyways after pinching the wallets of two suits. He stood and let his body sink into the ground, only to rise back up beside the kid’s…uh…”home”.

And he waited.

And, while he knew the other boy wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to see him, but he hadn’t expected him to just _bolt_ like that.

As if he was terrified of him. Just like back at the lake.

He scowled and quickly took off after him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey!” Luther yelled after him, but Kingsley didn’t stop. He rushed through the alleyways and into the street, shoving past anyone in his way.

What the hell was that kid doing here?

Was he after him, too?

How did he find him?

Irritation, surprise, confusion,

_Annoyance, shock, bewilderment,_

**_Exasperation, alarm, puzzlement,_ **

The crowd’s emotions drummed in the back of his head as he tried to focus on where he was going. He could feel another headache coming on. And the cards, becoming increasingly aware of their creator’s panic were _not_ helping. It just added their worry and fear into the mix and he could feel his head start to throb painfully.

He tried to block it all out as best as possible as he turned into another alleyway. He glanced behind him, not seeing any trace of that other kid. He turned back and quickly stopped when he saw Luther standing at the end of alleyway. How the hell had he—? Kingsley turned around, only to find Luther standing right in front of him. He let out another yelp, jerking back.

A quick glance behind him revealed a, now, empty passageway. “You done?” He turned his head back at the question, taking another step back. “How—?” He asked before quickly shaking his head. “Nevermind. What do you want?” He tried to hide his anxiety, but he knew his attempts were abysmal at best.

“Calm down, kid, you’re lookin’ a little worse for wear over there. Eh, more than the usual, I mean.” He said, holding his hands up to show that he meant no harm. He closed his eyes, holding his head.

The surge of emotions had died down, but the damage was done and his cards were still radiating uneasiness. …But among all of that, was an uneasiness and a worry that wasn’t derived from fear…but _sympathy_.

He looked up and found the only other possible source. Despite the smug grin, that kid was actually _worried_ about him? Or was that pity?

He groaned, leaning against the wall, allowing himself to calm down with the knowledge that Luther wasn’t a threat. He patted his pockets, pulling out a bottle of analgesic, taking a swig before directing a glare at the other boy. “Is that why you followed me out here?” He scowled. “I didn’t feed ya my sob story for any type of _pity_.” He continued when Luther only regarded him with confusion. “I _told_ you that so you’d stop askin’ so many damn questions and leave me the _hell_ _alone._ ”

Luther frowned, looking like he was ready to protest before stopping himself. “Those powers of yours are really annoyin’, you know that? Though…s’not pity, okay? Look, I ain’t here to cause trouble. I only wanna talk.” He said, but Kingsley’s focus was stuck on the first thing he’d said. “Wait…you _know_ about my—?”

“The whole empath thing? Yeah. I figure that’s why you’re drinking that stuff like a professional boozehound.” He remarked, nodding towards the bottle in his hand.

Kingsley jumped up, a mix of surprise and determination on his face. “A what? Is that what I am? What is it? What does it mean? Is that why I _see_ and _feel_ and _-_ and _—How_ do you know about this? Are you—?” He babbled, eager for some answers, at last.

“Jeez, kid, slow down! Look, I ain’t like you and I really don’t know all that much, ok? Everythin’ I know is because I asked my boss about ya.” Luther interjected.

“And how does he know so much?”

Luther just grinned unnervingly. “The boss knows all _sorts_ o’ things.” He smirked. He sighed, thinking for a moment before doing his best to regurgitate the brief summary that Lucifer had provided him back at the lake. Kingsley listened intently to every word.

Needless to say, he was _far_ from pleased.

He cursed under his breath, burying his head in his hands. “So…I’m just a some sorta glorified therapist? Fated to _help_ people sort out their bullshit _feelings_?”

And Luther, that bastard, had the audacity to _laugh_ at him. “Pretty much. People like you are rare, and, not that it’ll make ya feel any better…some people believe that empaths are assigned, eh, by Heaven or somethin’, to places or people that need them. I mean, _true_ shitshows, and let’s be honest, with your family in charge, Inkwell fits that description pretty fuckin’ well.”

He would laugh at the absurdity of it all if he wasn’t so pissed. “So, you expect me to believe that _I’m_ supposed to be some sort of hero? Save Inkwell by freein’ them from my family’s tyranny...by what? Humanizing them? Figuring out the “real” reason they’re all pieces of shit? Making them turn to the path of “good”?”

“Hell if I know. People always say that everyone is here for a reason.”

“ _Bullshit_. There’s no savin’ people like them.” He laughed, but there was hardly any humor in it. “…Do ya think my family knew that? You think that’s why they got rid of Hearts?”

Luther winced and frowned. “I...don’t know. I guess it’s supposed to be some sort of gift.”

Being expected to give piece after piece of himself for others until there was nothing left for some “greater good” bullshit was supposed to be a _gift_? Well, he thought, God could take this so called “gift” and shove it. He ran his hands down his face, setting aside the bottle of analgesic. He stayed quiet, trying to process his possible role in the world. He was no hero. Hell, he didn’t even _want_ to be a hero! “No.” He hissed. “I don’t want to _save_ Inkwell! I want to _rule_ it! To have power and wealth, and have people to finally show me some respect! …And to do _that_ , I need to be a _King_. A proper one! A King of Diamonds, like my old man! _That’s_ what I’m meant to be! Not this!”

How could he possibly be something that went against everything he’s ever known? Against everything he’s longed for his entire life?

Clearly, someone up there had made a mistake.

Luther’s apprehension surfaced among the steadily dulling worry from the cards and he glanced up towards him as the other bit his lip.

“What?”

Luther sighed before a piece of paper and a pen suddenly materialized in his hands. “Well…if that’s what ya really want, I know how to make it happen for ya. The boss-man knows all sorts of magic. _Black_ magic in particular.”

And he tensed. He’s heard plenty horror stories of those foolish enough to mess with the Devil’s magic.

“It allows him to do all sorts of things in order to help out good folks lookin’ for a lucky break. And, if you’re interested. All you gotta do, is sign on the dotted line.” He continued, holding out the paper and pen towards him.

“Are you serious?” He asked, a hopeful smile on his face as he took the contract into his hands. The words blurred together as all his mind focused on was how his life would be as a Diamond.

He imagined what life would be like when he became the new head of the Dice family casino. He almost went misty eyed at the thought, ripping off the cap of the pen in his excitement. He pressed the contract against the wall as he prepared to sign his name, but paused as Luther’s apprehension resurfaced prodding at the back of his mind.

It was putting a damper on his excitement, but before he could acknowledge it, Luther sighed. “So, you’re really gonna do this?”

“You’re goddamn right, I am.” He insisted, moving to find a smoother surface to write on. He didn’t catch Luther’s frown of irritation, but he certainly felt it.

“Look, just, _think_ for a second, would ya? You do this, right? Become a Diamond King and go back to them? That’s the plan?” Luther asked, shaking his head when Kingsley remained silent. “I’m not tellin’ you how to run your life…but everythin’ I said before? Back at the lake? It still stands. You really think they’re going to take you back?”

“Yes.” He said, but it lacked any real confidence. They had to take him back, right? They would…

He knew they would.

“Well, they’re not—”

“You don’t know that.” He snapped, clutching onto the contract like a lifeline. He knew he was acting childish, but he was tired and _frustrated_ and all he wanted was a way _out_ of the nightmare already. And surely, taking this deal was worth a chance, right? Besides, what did this kid know?

“I _do_ know that.” He retorted. “Look…maybe I’ve gone through some similar shit, okay? You can change your suit. You can go back there and do everythin’ right, but it won’t do any good. You can try to be want they want, but it _never_ be enough…” He looked away with a sullen look on his face. “…Only to end up becoming exactly what they said you were anyway.”

And he knew what Luther said was true, but he wanted so desperately to cling to some sort of hope that he still had a chance. But he knew his father and was well aware that he didn’t give second chances.

His shoulders sagged. “And if I don’t? Then what? I’ll be in the same position as I am now. My suit and these abilities are _useless. …_ Without this deal, I’m already the failure they say I am. Without this deal, I’ll have no chance of going back. Without the association with my family and the business…What do I have?” He mumbled, letting out a shaky breath. “I can’t keep doing this. Living on the streets and drowning myself in painkillers just to be able to _function_ among the bombardment of people’s emotions bangin’ at the back of my head! And that’s not even including what happens when I try to use my magic!” He cried, increasingly becoming more and more hysterical. “And the harder I try to just make it all _stop_ , it never gets any better! It only gets _worse_! What am I supposed to do?” He asked, miserably.

Luther winced, gritting his teeth as he tried to figure out some sort of solution. Kingsley looked down at the contract again. Maybe, he thought, he could still go through with it. Even if he wasn’t welcomed back home, he wouldn’t have to deal with the whole empath thing anymore. Maybe then, he would be able have some sort of chance at making a decent life for himself.

But at what cost? What would this guy want in return for his services and was he really willing to be indebted to a total stranger? Especially on that dabbled with such dangerous magic?

“You know…I think that’s your problem, kid.” Luther frowned, continuing when he saw his confusion. “The more you keep fightin’ this thing, the more you’re gonna find yourself runnin’ into a brick wall.”

Kingsley scowled, tightening his grip on the contract. “Of course I am because that’s _not_ who I am.”

“See, that’s what I mean! Whether you like it or not, this “Heart” stuff and the empath bit that comes with it, _is_ who you are. Now, hold on, hear me out.” Luther added, stopping him from interjecting. “Having abilities you don’t want…unstable powers that you don’t know how to control?” Luther ran a hand down the left side of his face, revealing….scars.

 _Burn_ scars.

Just like the ones on that beast from the lake.

 “Havin’ people treatin’ ya all sorts of ways because of something you can’t help?” He continued, making the scars fade away.

Bitter acceptance drummed softly in the back of his mind and Kingsley went silent. Luther took in a breath. When he exhaled, fire seeped out of his mouth as he grinned. “People ain’t a fan of those with fire magic. Especially my folks.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “They called me a devil. A cursed child.”

And though Luther only looked mildly irritated, Kingsley could feel just how deep those old wounds were.

“Fire was… _comforting_. Unstable and _destructive_ , yes…but not inherently bad. Not if you didn’t want it to be. It’s light. It’s warmth. It’s…” And Luther immediately stopped himself, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Anyway, that’s what I thought, at least…Of course, my folks didn’t agree. I tried so _hard_ to be different. To prove that I could be what they wanted…”

But it wasn’t enough.

It was _never_ enough.

“But then, one day, I said “fuck it”. If that’s what they think I am, _fine_.” Luther said, grin back in place. “That’s what I’m tellin’ ya, kid! I _know_ how it’s like and trust me when I say that life got so much better when I just embraced it! For _years,_ I tried to do things their way and for what? If they believe that I’m some sort of demon, then…might as well give them what they want, yeah? _Own_ it! You can use those abilities of yours, kid! Just because those other hippies decided to use their powers for “good”, don’t mean _you_ have to!”

He frowned, clearly skeptical. “What do you mean?”

And that grin stretched impossibly wider. “Well!” He laughed. “I was jus’ thinkin’ and…I think you an’ I can help each other out. Those empathy powers of yours? _Especially_ , the power you have to _see—_?”

“See…?” And he went pale. “You mean— _No_.” He _never_ wanted to use his magic if it meant never experiencing those incidents back in Inkwell again. “Absolutely not. I am _not_ doin’ _that_ again. Not after last time with-with _you_ and that _thing_ …and all the…the…!” He shook his head, feeling panic well up inside his chest. “I thought I was gonna lose myself. My _mind_! I don’t—What even was that? Back at the lake, I saw—”

“A monster?”

He winced, but Luther didn’t seem surprised.

 _Disappointment_.

 “Actually… that’s the reason I came lookin’ for you out here. I wanted to know what you saw.”

“I don’t—”

“I know, but just… _humor_ me, would ya?”

And Kingsley could tell how desperately he wanted to know, though he didn’t entirely understand why. He swallowed, but did his best to describe what he saw, convinced that he was seeing some other beings roam the earth. To which, Luther only snorted, disgruntled. Then, he encouraged him to take another look, insisting despite his protests.

“Just trust me. I’m only proving a point.” He said. “You want answers, or not?”

He wasn’t sure. Because he sure as hell wasn’t liking the answers he’d been getting so far.

He hesitated, but dared to take another look. He braced himself… but he didn’t see the same being as before.

Why was it _different_?

The creature that had been practically consumed by fire and anger was now gone.

Now sat Luther, or a version of him, anyway. He was sitting on his knees, staring at the ground with a scowl. On the verge of tears, his body was losing its shape, as if it’s owner was struggling to keep himself intact. The anger was there, but it wasn’t rage. At least not the explosive kind he’d seen before, but a quiet fury towards himself.  

Frustration and disillusionment with the confirmation that he had been pursuing an unattainable goal.

And he knew that feeling. Of course he did.

He stopped his magic before the new wave of emotions could paralyze him again

“That’s no demon, kid. That’s me. A version of me, anyway. Every time you use those eyes of yours, you’re able to see that side of people. The true **_ugliness_** within…”

Or rather, he thought, a visual representation of how people were feeling. Which meant that that beast from before was how Luther saw…himself?

And now that he was beginning to understand these abilities more, it was as fascinating as it was annoying.

Luther’s sour mood was only making his own _worse,_ so, for more his benefit than Luther’s, he tried to offer some comfort.

Because he now understood why Luther cared so much.

Even if it was foolish to trust someone he barely knew, no matter what past they happened to share.

“Don’t make you a monster if they deserved it, now, does it?” He offered, giving the older boy a small smile.

“Guess not.” And Luther’s smile was just a tad more genuine.

Kingsley sighed, staring down at the contract again. “Maybe, you’re right…but what _I_ said before still stands. What will I do on my own?”

“Well, like I was sayin’, kid, I think these powers of yours can be _very_ useful.”

“How so?”

“You used to work for your old man, yeah? Ever talked to the customers? Learned how to get them to play a little more? _Spend_ a little more?”

“…Yes?”

“So here’s what I’ve been thinkin’, right? I got a quota to fill with these contracts and I…haven’t been doin’ so hot.” He sighed in frustration. “I ain’t great with people, but you? You _are_. Don’t you know that empathy is the _key_ to a successful con, kid? Knowin’ just how to prey on people and their weakness and you already have experience! But, now you’ve got more tools under your belt. All you gotta do is learn how to use ‘em! So, maybe you can help convince some poor bastards lookin’ for somethin’ better to make a deal?”

He frowned, lowering the contract in his hands. “Maybe I could, but what’s in it for me?”

And Luther smirked, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “To get the contract and have their wishes fulfilled, all they gotta do , is sign on the dotted line and…maybe pay a little _fee_ , yeah? So, here’s the deal. You help me get those contracts, and we split the profits. This will be a golden opportunity to use these powers of yours. Learn how to use it to twist people around your finger, just like you used to do back at your pop’s casino. And I can help teach ya some basic things about controlling your magic. The boss taught me everythin’ I know, after all. So, whaddya say?”

Kingsley furrowed his bows, thinking over the proposition. Training from the student of an expert and experience using his new abilities in exchange for a portion of the profits and making shady deals on Luther’s behalf?

He desperately needed the money and if being a Diamond wasn’t possible (without sighing a contract, that is), then he might has well learn how to use his abilities for something useful. And while he would normally be suspicious, as this all seemed too good to be true based on the luck he’s been having lately, he could feel Luther’s genuine interest in helping him.

Perhaps, his luck was finally turning around for the better.  

Luther moved to stand in front of him, holding out his hand. “Well? Do we have a deal, kid?”

And he smiled, firmly, if not a bit eagerly, shaking Luther’s hand.

“You, sir, have got yourself a deal!”

“Excellent!” He laughed, clapping him on the back. “Now, you got my name, stranger. But I’ve yet to know the name of my new _business_ _partner_.”

“Kingsley.” He said with a grin. “Kingsley Dice.”

And with a shake of a hand, that deal marked the beginning of _everything_.

 

* * *

 

 

After Dice had run off, the Devil had been on cloud nine. He’d been looking for a way to get back at that smug bastard for _years_ and god _damn_ did it feel good to finally win.

His staff didn’t seem enthused about the change in management, watching Dice leave with a mix of shock and apprehension. None of them seemed to be a fan of Dice’s sister and were less than eager to participate in the party to celebrate her first day.

The Devil didn’t concern himself with their feelings. He didn’t even care about the new manager. He was riding this victory and used the festivities as a chance to get absolutely _shitfaced_.

He’d been a giggling mess all the way through the night and into the morning.

He ignored the disapproving looks the staff gave him.

He didn’t even notice Noami’s early exit during her own party.

He drank until he was half laying on the bar counter and his speech had slurred into something unintelligible. He laughed and _laughed_ until his weary imps arrived, dragging him from the bar counter to put him to bed.

And he laughed himself until he’d giggled himself to sleep.

And he laughed through the hangover that next morning.

And he laughed as he watched the imps toss all of Dice’s things into the garbage.

And he laughed as he watched Naomi run the casino floor night after night.

And he laughed…and laughed…and _laughed_ …until he found himself sitting in his office wondering what the hell was so _goddamn_ funny.

He sat there, alone, and halfway through another bottle of bourbon.

This is what he wanted. He wanted to _humiliate_ Dice. Bring him up, only to knock him down. He wanted to hit him where it _hurt_ before dragging his sorry ass down to Hell where he’d make sure to oversee his eternal torture _personally_.

And Dice _deserved_ it.

Because he remembered that deal they had made when they were just a couple of misfits. Back before he’d taken over Hell in Lucifer’s place.

He had allowed himself to get attached when he should have just gotten the little shit to sign that contract back at that lake.

But he hadn’t.

Instead, he’d sought him out and made that deal.

How foolish.

He remembered them setting up shop right there on Gouache Isle II, collecting enough money to buy themselves a decent table to get started with.

In the beginning, they’d had a rocky start. While Dice had a naturally slick tongue, it wasn’t often always enough to convince an _adult_ to trust that some kid on the street held the answers to their problems.

And there wasn’t the aid of alcohol to help loosen up the lips of their potential victims.

They had to dig deeper if they wanted any actual chance of getting customers, so Dice, while reluctant at first, agreed to start utilizing his powers. He’d tried to teach him what he knew about maintaining control over one’s magic, but the kid still struggled to use his powers without losing himself in another’s emotions. Trying to keep himself from drowning as he let people’s feelings plague his heart, wading in their pain and sorrow.

Opening himself up and leaving himself vulnerable without losing control.

Or himself.

Coaxing them to open up, using their pain to get them to sign that dotted line. And Lucifer had _warned_ him of an empath’s ability to get inside one’s head.

Make a person trust them.

Make a person feel safe.

Until they’re willingly putting out all their troubles for them to take.

Only for an empath to _take_ that pain for them. Lift that weight from their shoulders and putting it on their own.

Leaving one a little lighter to take on the world for another day…even as the empath suffered in exchange.

And it was okay, because they’d helped someone in need.

And they would repeat the process over and over and _over_ again…

Until they broke under the pressure.

But Dice wanted to be _different_.

He wanted to be able to look, let people believe that he was there to lend an ear in a world that wouldn’t listen…before leaving them _breathless_ , gasping for air as they hung the noose around their neck with each and every signature.

But to get to that point, took some work. In the beginning, Dice using his powers had been risky. He remembered the time where he’d pushed himself too hard, having a breakdown by the end of their first week putting those abilities to the test.

The first of many that he would witness over the years that they remained in operation.

And he remembered watching as the kid held himself tight and just wailed in agony. Unable to move. Unable to think. Unable to breathe. Body trembling under the weight of it all.

_“King, maybe we should take things slow.” He’d said, after an awkward session of just patting the kid on the back until the episode had passed, leaving Dice exhausted and desperate for a way to stop the pounding in his head._

_“How much time do we have left of this “grace period” your boss gave you?”_

_“…Two weeks.”_

_“Then, we can’t afford to stop now.” He said, wiping away the tears. “I’ll just have to try harder.”_

Because Dice had been nothing if not determined. He refused to fail. So, he kept pushing himself, dulling the weight on his heart with every swig of the bottle, until they’d collected enough contracts by the end of the month to leave Lucifer satisfied.

And Dice never knew who the contracts were really for and he made sure that Lucifer was kept in the dark about Dice’s involvement for as long as possible.

After that first month was up, Dice only continued to push himself, figuring out ways to keep himself focused and afloat.

Months turned into years and he’d had the front row seat to the effects their business had had on young Kingsley’s heart.

As he improved his hold over his power, he used his experiences from his days in his father’s casino to personalize his pitch for each person, while he sat back and watched as Dice worked his charm on people.

He was getting good.

And sometimes he would ask what Dice saw when he used his abilities on people, trying to understand it all.

And he would sit there and listen to Dice tell him what he saw, what he figured it all meant and how he then used it to reduce men and women to a desperate mess, signing away their souls without a second thought each and every day…

Only to get back up and do the same routine again the next morning.

As months turned to years, he got a chance to witness that big heart of Dice’s grow _cold_.

With every tear shed.

With every desperate plea.

And with every demand that they share this ticket to everything they’d ever wanted,

Dice handed over a contract, offering them the world.

And with every story of woe and every contract signed,

Dice grew callous, a heinous grin twisting his features more and more each day, even as someone else’s tears ran down his face.

Business soared as Dice learned to walk through the sea of their customers’ anguish.

 _Oh_ , it was just _wicked_ how that boy would tear down all those people. Push and push until they were pouring out their hearts…only for him to grin as he set themselves up for their own destruction.

And as the years went by, they’d grown closer.

After all, he and Dice had been two guys who’d been given the short end of the stick in life. Guys like them had to stick together.

Right?

He’d had someone he could trust. Someone he considered a friend.

And, _god_ , watching Dice work _did_ something to him, making his heart flutter with every successful deal made.

And as the years went by, somehow, he’d found himself falling for him.

Falling for his wits and his charm.

Falling for the sadistic sneers when the customers tuned their back and the warmer ones that were only reserved for him. Or when he got excited over some new book he’d found at the library, sporting a smile so wide that it revealed the dimple on his left cheek.

And then, there was his laugh. And the way he snorted after a particularly “good” joke.

Because he, honestly, had a terrible taste in jokes. But, somehow, he’d fallen for him all the same.

Hell, he even liked Dice’s little cards. They were perfect for stealing things for them and made pulling a Three-card Monte so much easier when they needed extra money.

And over the years, Dice had moved off the streets and into an abandoned church on the outskirts of Gouache Isle I, going into the city to set up shop day after day.

And things had been going _great._

But to Dice, it just wasn’t enough. It was _never_ enough.

And one day, Dice had come back to the church with a notebook.

_“What ya got there, King? Plannin’ to write a novel over there?” He’d asked, looking over Dice’s shoulder as the younger boy worked._

_But the usual playful retort wasn’t present. “No.” He’d said, glaring down at the book in front of him. “I’m working on a plan.”_

_“Plan?” He’d asked. “For what?”_

_“To go back.”_

It had been four years since they’d went into business together and _now_ Dice wanted to _go back_?

Hadn’t they already been through this? And he’d protested, refusing to go through all of _that_ again. But Dice only shook his head with a scowl.

_“Look around you, Luther!” He sneered. “This place? Living in some dirty old church and only makin’ enough money to just get by? This is not the life I’m supposed to live. This is not the life I **want** to live.”_

_“And what will going back, accomplish?”_

_“I deserve that casino!” He cried, digging his pencil into the pages. “And **everything** that comes with it! **I’m** the one that’s worked my ass off for that godforsaken place! **I’m** the one who knows that place inside and out! **I’m** the one that was actively makin’ money for the place by getting those idiots to bet all their life savings away! **I’m** the one that worked the hardest outta all of them! And I won’t **sit here** and have them, turn around an’ tell me that I don’t deserve it!” He dug the pencil harder into the book until the lead threatened to break under the pressure. “ **Trust** **me** , I’m not going back to **grovel**. No… If they’re not willin’ to give me the chance to win my father’s place, then I’ll just have to go back there and take what’s rightfully **mine** by **force**.”_

And he had been skeptical. Dice had come a long way from that kid he’d met back at the lake, but to try to take down the mafia boss of Inkwell? That was suicide.

And four years turned into five and he was still working on that plan of his. Trying to make it _flawless_.

Training with him to strengthen his magic so he could be ready for the fight this plan would entail.

While their business had led to a few scraps here and there, Dice was no fighter. At least, not one that fought with his fists. Rather, he preferred to fight his battles with those cards of his…but that really wasn’t saying much. Despite all of his efforts, Dice’s magic was still too weak to try to take on his family.

He knew it and Dice knew it, too.

And he’d asked him, after another sparring session had yielded the same, disappointing results, just how long he planned to keep this up. Perhaps he needed to just cut his losses. Maybe work on opening his own casino in the future instead.

But it wasn’t about owning just _any_ casino, no. Dice had wanted his _father’s_ casino and _his alone_. He wanted to overthrow his father and take his place as Inkwell’s tyrant. He wanted to hit his family where it truly _hurt_ and that was by taking _everything_ they had.

And he didn’t plan to stop until he had what he wanted.

_“I will keep working until I can do this. Until every possible contingency is accounted for and this plan is **perfect**. Until I can go there and rip **everything** away from them like they did to me. And I’ll keep workin’ for as long as it takes. Trust me,” He said, with a demented glint in his eye. “I can be **patient**.” _

And he should have taken that for as the red flag that it was.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he did his best to continue offering his help in exchange for contracts.

And as he sat in his office, drinking the last of the bourbon, he remembered _admiring_ that dedication…even if he’d thought the kid was bit too obsessive and just a _little_ unhinged at the time.

Even if he if thought Dice was an idiot chasing after a lost cause.

And then, one night, things went sour.

When one made it a business to lie and cheat people out of their money and trick them to being indebted to Lucifer himself (not that Dice ever found out about that), you’re bound to make some _enemies_.

Enemies that would come looking for you.

Enemies that would be out for _blood_.

He scowled at the memory, remembering that night.

_“King!” He called, stepping inside the doors of the old church, abandoned after a fire many years ago. “King?” He called again, tugging the satchel strap from around his shoulders._

_“Down here!” Dice replied from down the hall. Ah, so he must be busy counting their profits from last week. “So? What’s the news?”_

_“You won’t believe it, King! Those finks actually did it! They approved that eighteenth amendment! They’re gonna put a ban on everythin’! People are saying that whole damn place is gonna go dry by next year!” He groaned, making his way towards his friend. “Can ya believe it? We’re gonna have to start hording the stuff!”_

_He walked in to see Dice binding a stack of bills together and he narrowed his eyes._

_Who were all these strange men? “Dice, the hell’s goin’ on?” He asked, taking a step back, only to be grabbed by at least three of those goons.  He struggled in their grasp, freezing when they pressed a gun against his temple._

_And he’d looked back to see Dice handing the stack of cash to one of them. “What—?”_

_“I’m sorry.” He said, but there no guilt in those eyes. “They’re not so happy we tricked their little brother in that deal. They want to take it back. Free him from his debt…but, of course, **I** can’t do that, now, can I? I only told them the truth!” _

_And Dice’s lips twitched as he fought hard not to smile and he’d felt his heart sink._

_“It’s **you** they need to talk to, not me!”_

_“We were in this together!”_

_“True… but, I can’t afford for things to end this way. I’ve still got **plans** , remember?” And the façade broke as those lips curled into a crooked smile. _

_That smile that had made his heart beat just a little bit faster,_

_Was now like a **knife** to the chest._

_“So, these fine gentlemen and I struck up a little deal…They get **you** and a little monetary compensation in exchange for a simple slap on the wrist for me.”_

_And he gritted his teeth, fury rising up like bile at the back of his throat._

_He never thought he would find himself on the wrong end of that smile._

_“Aw, don’t look at me like that! It’s nothin’ **personal** , Luther. It’s just **business**!” That bastard shrugged, grabbing another satchel. One with, presumably his cut of the money. “And think of it this way! You won’t owe anything to your boss if you’re **dead**!”_

_And with that, he bowed to those thugs, and quickly took his leave._

_Patting him on the shoulder as Dice helped himself to some of the whiskey he’d brought for the both of them._

_Like everything they’d done together for **years** just meant **nothing**._

_And he remembered the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes._

_And he remembered everything going red,_

_As his heart broke in **two.**_

He roared in anger, throwing the empty bottle against the wall.

Dice _deserved_ this for what he did.

Just like he will deserve every _second_ of his _eternal_ _torture_.

And he _hated_ him.

Hated how he hadn’t even _changed_ when he came walking into his casino one odd Saturday night.

No guilt.

No _remorse_.

He waltzed in with that stupid arrogant grin still in place.

Coming in like he _owned_ the place.

Being so _goddamn_ bold that he challenged the Devil, _himself_!

His spirit never crushed and his smile never breaking as he climbed through the ranks.

As he made people _adore_ him as much as they _feared_ him.

As he inched his way closer and closer to his heart…

And he had gotten lost in it all.

 _Letting_ him get closer and _closer_ and **_closer_** _…_

Until he’d found himself falling for that _lie_ all over again.

And he _hated_ him…He thought, burying his face into his hand.

He **_hated_** _him…_

…Just as much as he loved him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get better...for Dice, at least?? UGH, I hope I'm conveying Dice's powers well enough. I feel like the way I'm writing it, it gets confusing just how his abilities work...
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated! Let me know what you think!


	5. Trying To Move On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait! College has started up again, so it doesn't always leave me with a lot of free time to do everything I want to do, you know? 
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoy and thanks so much for reading!

_Worry._

_Anxiety_

_Fear_.

Dice groaned in annoyance as a bombardment of emotions plagued his mind. Mainly because these emotions were _not_ his own and they were making his headache _worse_.

He cracked an eye open and was met with the source of these feelings. He found himself staring at multiple worried little faces as his cards crowded on and around his body. It was a good thing that they weighed next to nothing, otherwise his body would be protesting more than it already was. Upon seeing him wake, his cards immediately rushed forward, making tiny noises of distress as they huddled as close as possible to his face.

_Relief._

_Frustration._

_Fury—_

“Y’all, please, calm down.” He groaned, trying his best to block out the onslaught of emotions. “I already feel like garbage, I don’t need you makin’ me feel worse.”

_Guilt._

He winced and let out a soft sigh. “Hey now, don’t do that. I know what you’re doin’ and ain’t no reason for you all to go blamin’ yourselves for this mess.”

The cards didn’t seem convinced.

There was another wave of regret and guilt and he let out another groan. “Everyone, _please_.” He grumbled, but that was only met with an addition of _determination_ and _defiance_.

He knew what they wanted, but he really didn’t want to hear what they had to say. He just wanted to lay there on the floor and rot in his own misery.

And maybe, at some point, he would pick himself back up and start over… _again_ ,

But not now.

He wanted some peace and quiet, trying not to just lash out at anything and everything in frustration. He did his best to keep his composure. More for the card’s sake than anything else. If they weren’t there, he was sure he would have broken something, by now.

Then again, the pain pulsing through his body also helped to kept him from doing anything more than laying on the floor like a dead weight. The cards, however, persisted, making noises of protest as they patted insistently at his face and chest.   

“Okay!” He snapped, a little harsher than he’d meant to. The cards quickly moved off and away from him. “Aces.” He muttered, pausing to give the cards in question time to step forward. His eyes flashed green for a moment and the use of his magic didn’t help the pounding in his head.

He sighed, keeping his face covered. “Alright, what do you want?”

Waves of guilt washed over him once again and he lowered his arm to find his Aces all watching him, all with proper bodies instead of their much smaller and portable ones. Each of them looked a little worse for wear, with their pristine suits ruffled and ruined.

“Well?” He scowled, bitterly. His Aces just looked at each other for a moment before regarding him with a frown.

“Boss…” Heart spoke up, moving closer. “I…We’re so _sorry_. You called on us to _protect_ you and we couldn’t do what we were _made_ for and-and—”

“ _Stop_.” Dice ordered, firmly. “Didn’t I tell you all to cut that out? There was nothing any of you could have done, okay? Besides…you couldn’t have known that the Devil would…” He gritted his teeth.

“No, but—!”

“I don’t want to hear it. Now, hopefully you wanted more than just a chance to try to take the blame for my stupidity?” He sighed, tiredly.

Heart’s frown deepened, and he glance towards his fellow aces. Diamond grimaced and took the opportunity to speak up. “Actually…we were all talking while you were, uh… _unconscious_ , sir. And we were wondering…What now? No matter who’s at fault here, the fact still remains that we’ve _lost_. What are we supposed to do?”

Dice was silent for a moment. Part of him, the part that wasn’t the type to back down so easily, wanted to go back and demand a rematch. Get a chance to wipe that smug grin off his sister’s face and prove that _he_ was the one and _only_ King of the Casino.

But he knew rushing in like that would be foolish.

“Next, we’re going to take our leave.” He said, ignoring the look of horrified shock on his cards faces. “We can’t stay here. She’ll come to these checkpoints at some point or another and I’d rather not let her have the satisfaction of seein’ me in such a state. In fact, it’s best that we leave this _rotten_ place entirely.”

“That’s it, then?” Spade hissed. “We’re just gonna _run_? And let that bastard get away with what he’s done to us? Kickin’ us out on the streets like that? Come _on_ , Boss! Surely, you have some sort of plan, yeah? We can go back there and _pummel_ that woman into smithereens! Make the Big Boss see just who’s more deserving of that place!”

“For _what_?” Dice sneered. “To go back and stroke his ego? Let him see me crawlin’ back to that place? Back to _him_? As if I didn’t have anythin’ else?”

And the cards shrank back, exchanging concerned glances. “But…you _don’t_ have anything without that place, Boss.” Heart muttered, and Dice gritted his teeth.

Because heart was right. Of course he was.

“Trust me, I’m _well_ aware.” He laughed bitterly. “But, that doesn’t mean I’m willin’ to sacrifice the little dignity I have left. So, the plan is that we leave this island. Move to another one and start over.”

He moved to try to sit up, but his Aces rushed forward, gently trying to push him back down. “We need to leave _now_. It’s too dangerous to stay here.” He stressed, swatting their hands away.

His cards wanted to protest, but they knew it would be dangerous to stay put. So, the Aces sighed and helped Dice to his feet. Of course, Dice wanted to walk on his own, despite his body’s protests. To which, his Aces, politely, but firmly, informed their boss that that was a _stupid_ idea and would only make his injuries worse.

So, with the rest of the cards safely back in their deck and into Dice’s pocket, he and his Aces left in the early morning, while it was still dark outside. Heart carried Dice’s things while Spade and Club kept a look out to make sure that they wouldn’t be spotted. That left Diamond, the strongest of them, to carry a _very_ unwilling Dice in her arms as they quickly navigated the city.

 _Oh_ , if he were to be _seen_ in such a state…

Then finally, they found themselves standing in front of Brineybeard’s ship. The business now taken over by their son. After he’d gotten his soul back thanks to those two Cup brothers, he’d decided to drop the pirating business and turn back to more honest work.

Dice sighed as he stared up at the ship. Here he was, yet again.

He remembered back when he was young, scared, and angry…desperate for a way to get off the island before his family could find him.

Diamond put him down and he mustered up some of his strength to create a portal underneath them—a task that was more draining than it should’ve been.

Successfully inside, the Aces got to work helping their boss find a suitable place to hide before, once again, insisting that he get some rest. And _no_ , passing out from a drunken stupor didn’t _not_ count.

Despite his best efforts and much to his card’s delight, he’d ended up succumbing to his exhaustion.  

 

* * *

 

 

His cards woke him when the ship docked, and they’d made quick work of sneaking back out of the boat. Something that was harder when one was injured, but they made it work.

From there, things became a bit of a blur.

Getting lost in the city. Having the cards help him freshen up before trying to charm his way into getting a free stay at one of the local inns. And with some liquid courage in his system to help numb the pain, he’d managed to get a room for a much cheaper price.

But not free. Damn. He must be slipping. But he was more than happy to take what he could get.

Which is how he found himself staring blankly at the door of his new room as he locked the door. He tossed his coat to the side; his cards, back in their normal forms. watched him from the bed.

“Boss? Are you okay?”

“No.” His shoulders sagged. “Course not.”

The cards frowned, glancing at each other worriedly. “…What do we do now?”

And Dice laughed bitterly, resting his forehead against the door. “Well, I got two options here. Either I move on or I just lay down and die. And I’ve lived too long and fought too hard to just give up now. Not like this.” He groaned, running a hand down his face. “I’ll figure somethin’ out... This _ain’t_ the end, understand?”

“Right! Forget the Devil! We can just open up a place of our own!” He said, and his fellow cards cheered in agreement.

“Heh. _Yeah_ …I don’t think so.”

The cards froze, staring up at their boss in shock. “What do you mean you don’t _think_ so? I thought that was the main goal here? Isn’t that what you’ve been fighting for all this time?” Spade questioned, the other cards sharing her confusion.

“It wasn’t _just_ about a casino—”

“It’s about the _power_. We _know_.” Club interjected. “But, the casino was the means to _gain_ that power, yes? So, again, what do you mean you don’t _think_ so? It was a good plan! We have enough experience. We could easily start our own business—”

“We might have truly lost Inkwell, but now we have _here_. We can take over this place just as well.” Diamond insisted.

“You can be _king_ again, Boss! With our help, we’ll make sure that _you’ll_ be on top once again! Ain’t that what you want?” Spade grinned.

But all the cards frowned when Dice turned, revealing his sour expression.  

“I appreciate it, y’all. I do, but…” He gritted his teeth. “I just…I don’t know if I can _do_ that again. I’ve been fightin’ all my _life_ and I’m _tired_. Don’t you _get_ that?” He moved passed the bundle of cards to slump onto the foot of his bed. “I’m _tired_ …” He repeated, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

“…Boss, what are you saying?”

“I don’t…” Dice frowned. “I think…I’m done. Maybe it’s time to cut my losses and just _move on_. Properly, you know? Leave that whole life behind.”

And the look of sheer horror on his cards’ faces was almost comical. “Sir…” Heart moved closer, looking scandalized. “I know times are _hard_ , but surely you’re not thinkin’ of turnin’ to the side of the _angels,_ are you?”

“What? Hell no.” Dice scoffed, much to his cards’ relief. “I’ve got no plans of bein’ God’s errand boy. Bein’ a saint just ain’t for me, no matter what them angels might think. But…maybe a little more of an _honest_ life is better for me. Something more _normal_ …” He fumbled with his hands anxiously. “What do you guys think? Silly innit?”

The cards were silent for a moment before huddling together to talk among themselves. And Dice waited for their answer, feeling the drum of their worry radiating off them in waves.

“Boss?”

He looked up as his cards surrounded him at the foot of the bed. He groaned as they pulled him into a hug.

“Whatever you want to do—”

“Whatever makes you happy—”

“Even if it’s _crazy_ —”

“…You know we’ll always be here. No matter what.” Diamond, Clubs, Spade, and Heart said, respectively.

“Normal will be… _strange_ , but that doesn’t mean it won’t be a _welcome_ _change_. We’re with you a hundred percent, Boss. Because we—”

“ _Alright_ , _alright_. I asked for an _opinion_ , not for this sentimental _garbage_.” He scowled, but made no real effort to get the cards to move away from him. “Right… So, tomorrow, I’ll start lookin’ for a job. I can do _normal_. I mean, how hard can it be, yeah?”

 

* * *

 

 

Well, _finding_ a job wasn’t the hard part. He was a smooth talker by nature after all. No, the hardest part was actually _doing_ the job.

He had another chat with the owner of the inn and convinced him to hire him. His slick tongue landed him a job as the front desk clerk. Something simple and easy on his injuries.

It was hardly worth any effort and it was so goddamn _boring_.

And he was sure that this would be how he’d go _insane_.

Well, _again_ , anyway.

He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t built for this sort of life and he _vehemently_ _refused_ to acknowledge the owner’s son’s depression that was eating away at him like the _plague_.

That urge to help was tugging at his heart and soul, _begging_ him to just give into his nature. But he wasn’t here to _help_ people. He was only here for himself and he didn’t have time play therapist.

He groaned, finding himself taking more and more smoke breaks just to get away from everyone and all of their goddamn _problems_.

He used to love it. Seeing what plagued person after person. But that’s because he could actually _do_ something about it. Trick them out of their money and their souls, happily bringing them back for the Devil to collect.

Now, he couldn’t do any of that.

And denying his suite’s nature and his empathetic duties was _really_ starting to get to him.

 _Dammit_.

He had to do something before he lost himself again, he thought, taking another drag of his cigarette.

He closed his eyes, trying to distract himself. He remembered being back on Gouache Isles. On his own once again after selling an old friend out to a couple of blockheads.

Oh…

He’d pushed that whole incident so far to the back of his mind that he’d almost _forgotten_ the whole thing entirely.

Not because of shame, no.

But because, in the grand scheme of things, nothing was more important than _the_ _plan_. So, he’d left the poor bastard to _die_ … And now?

He could barely remember the boy’s name _._

He wondered if the kid was even still alive. Well, he wouldn’t be a kid anymore, now, would he? That is, if he’d managed to get away that night. A pang of guilt plagued him now, but back then?  

Nothing.

…Well, not _nothing_. He was no monster, after all.

And that heart of his was still, annoyingly, in place.

But he’d made his choice. If it meant being one step closer to his father’s place, he was willing to sacrifice a few things on the way. Including a part of his humanity, apparently.

It had been hard. The decision weighed heavily on his heart. That boy’s emotions had burrowed into him like a _parasite_.

What had always fascinated him about that kid was how well he’d learned to block him out. Keeping his deeper emotions hidden from him. Dice blamed that mentor of his. But...it was actually _nice_.

Someone he could talk to like a _normal_ _person_ again. But, that night, those barriers had fallen from the shock, no doubt. And he had to fight not to stumble back from the force of it all.

That kid had trusted him. Even had a little _crush_ on him, the poor thing. And, of course he felt _guilty_ , but he’d shoved it down and moved on. Leaving the kid to an uncertain future. Because when it came to the _plan_ …

That kid became _expendable_.

And…after he’d left, he’d thrown himself into his work. Going through the motions—finding a job and a place for he and his cards to live, along with the basic things to function in society. And every time he’d return to his room, he would go straight back to work on that plan of his. And on the weekends, he would even go out to somewhere remote and try to train on his own.

And somehow, in the midst of it all, he’d _snapped._ Lost his mind in the sound. With that boy gone, along with his teaching, those contracts, and therefore, the business…

All he had left was a _dream_.

He continued down the path of exploitation, scamming people on his own with various card tricks and by using his powers to target the weak, let them cry on his shoulder while he took anything he could sneak into his pockets fast enough.

And as the years ticked by, he’d felt himself slowly going _crazy_.

Not that he’d understood _why_ back then.

That desire to _help_ weighed on his heart, but he was determined to rebel against his nature. So much so that he doubled down on the abuse of his powers. He made a point to go out and hurt others, not always for money, but just because he _could_.

He was delirious. Drunk on what little power he had left.

And he’d thought that if he kept this up, he could break away from his nature for good. _Break_ that heart of his and rid himself of the distraction.

But all that misery he caused _lingered_ with him, rooting itself deeper and deeper into his soul. This was cost of misusing his abilities.

He was _sinking_ and the only way he knew how to stay afloat was to just go _numb_. And _that_ was where he’d truly lost his mind. The years became a blur after that. Nothing mattered but the _plan_. Everything would make _sense_ once he’d had his dreams in hand.

Everything would be _okay_ ,

And he would be _happy_ ,

Once he had that casino.

 _Right_?

Once he’d taken over his father’s place and he assumed his _rightful_ role in the world. Chasing what he thought was his ticket to happiness was the only thing that convinced him to get out of bed every morning.

He hadn’t understood then,

That that kid did more than just act as a friend and business partner.

He also acted as an emotional _anchor_ , in a way.

An empath was meant to bear the pain of others, but if that’s all that they did…

Just take and take and _take_ …

Well, they’d burn out far too quickly. There had to be a _balance._

As they shared a person’s _sorrow_ , they also shared their _joy_. Helping a person and making them happy again helped to ease some of the pain they’d taken.

So, without that kid, he had no one that could provide the positive emotions to help heal the damage left by the negative ones. He made people miserable, but their misery’s effect on his soul was alleviated by the relief and sheer delight that boy had with every contract he’d handed over.

From how the boy simply enjoyed his company. From how he _cared_. Those emotions he let seep through that barrier of his, all while hiding his more _telling_ emotions quite well.

So, beyond the occasional worry that he was pushing himself too hard, that boy was like a beacon of light among the darkness, if one wanted to be cheesy about it.

But on his own, he had no one to fill that boy’s shoes. His cards hadn’t been much help, spending most of their time worrying over him, then feeding him the positive emotions he needed.

Living in a sea of anguish, he became _obsessed._ Chasing after the only thing he thought could make him happy again. Pull him out of the depressive rut that told him to just _quit_. That he was a _failure_ , both to his father and to the angels. The feeling of hopelessness. Of feeling _weak_ and _helpless_ …

Like he was falling into a void, being swallowing up by a darkness that he couldn’t escape.

But he was nothing if not _determined_. He knew what he needed. At least, that’s what he’d told himself. He just had to finally _get it_.

Chasing that casino…

The family business…

Training with his cards until he believed he was ready to go in and _finally_ wage war against his family.

He laughed bitterly, taking another drag of his cigarette.

All that effort…

For **_nothing_**.

He remembered taking another boat ride, this time a paid seat, back to Inkwell.  He was twenty-one and he’d convinced himself that he was finally _ready_. Ready to face his family again after all those years.

Once he’d reached the shore of the place he used to call home, he’d waited for nightfall before making his way towards the casino. Obsession continued to be his driving force. He didn’t stop for a moment, walking all the way to his old home, his wary cards following close behind him.

Only to discover that someone had beaten him to the punch.

His breath caught in his throat as he stared up at the abandoned building. He didn’t understand. How could it be _closed_?

“Boss, it’s been _years_ since you left. Anything could have happened…”

And he’d ignored his Ace of Hearts, making his way towards the door in disbelief. The place was a wreck and was covered in caution tape. What the hell happened here?

The place looked like it’d been torched from the inside out. Curiously, however, the front doors were busted _in_ , not _out_.

He grabbed one of the many flyers that were stuck next to the door. It was an advertisement for a new casino that had opened on the other side of Isle III over a year ago.

_The Devil’s Casino._

He stared at those words until the words began to blur at the edges. Had this place truly taken over his family’s business? Overthrew them as the tyrants of Inkwell?

He tightened his grip on the paper. Everything he’d been working towards for all these years…

Only to be ripped away from him, _again_ , by some _schmuck_?

 _No_ …

**_No!_ **

He braced himself against the door, trying to get himself to calm down before that anger could bubble up again. Getting upset wouldn’t help anything. This was just, yet _another_ , bump in the road. Giving up wasn’t an option.

But…now what? His cards questioned, watching their creator tiredly.

They frowned, taking a cautious step back when Dice turned, forcing a smile so intense that it looked almost _painful_. He held up the flyer and laughed like it was the best joke he’s heard in years.

The cards took another step back.

“The _Devil’s_ Casino!” He snorted. “This is the place that apparently _ruined_ my old man!” He cackled, sauntering back down the stairs as he ran a hand down his face. “But, that’s _okay_! I might not be able to have the _old man’s_ casino, but takin’ the place that challenged my father and _won_? _Well_ , it’s the next best thing, _don’t you agree_?”

 

* * *

 

 

He remembered being surrounded by an _angry blaze_ of orange and red.

All he could see was _him_ walking out that door, replaying over and _over_ in his head.

All he could hear was the drumming of his own heart in his chest.

He’d _known_ better. He’d been _warned_ , and yet…

He lowered his head as the fire spread, filling the room with smoke and ash. It didn’t matter. The heat didn’t hurt. After all, he’s, _technically_ , been dead for quite some time now.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there, watching as those meatheads struggled to escape the fire, before he felt a shiver run up his spine.

“ _Poor thing_.” A voice hummed, it’s voice echoing in Luther’s brain. “He broke your heart, didn’t he?”

And he did his best not to tremble. Not to scream and yell and run out of that church so he could go and break that traitor’s nose. But, instead, he just stood there. Still in shock as the church burned down around him.

“Didn’t I _warn_ you, boy?” Lucifer continued, manifesting himself to tower behind his apprentice.

Luther gritted his teeth, the fire circling around him, intensifying. And he screamed in fury, fire bursting from his body as it swallowed up anything and _everything_ in its path.

He couldn’t hear the distant screams of those goons over his own. And Lucifer only watched, tutting in disapproval. The demon waited until the screams turned hoarse and the boy had sunk to his knees.

Hunched over and dry heaving as his buried his head into his hands.

Lucifer stepped forwards, kneeling down beside the boy. “Luther, my boy, listen,” He said, rubbing small circles into his back. “Crying isn’t going to get you anywhere. You did this to _yourself,_ you know. You _ignored me_ and _look what happened_.”

Luther stayed silence, body shaking with rage.

And Lucifer gently grabbed the side of the boy’s face, forcing him to look at him. “But, _don’t worry_ , child. I can _help_ you. I know you’re hurting, but if you come back with me, and stop chasing after mortals, we can complete your training.” He grinned. “You’re doing _exceptionally_ well... You’re almost ready to take over in my place…and when that happens? When the deal goes into effect and you become the new Devil? _This_ irritating thing,” he said, tapping a clawed finger against Luther’s chest. “won’t trouble you any further. You’ll become soulless. _Heartless_ …”

“No one will be able to hurt you ever _again._ ”

And he remembered wanting nothing more than for that pain to end.

And as he got up, following Lucifer back to Hell,

All he could think of was _him_.

And as he continued his training, he thought that he would take a page out of that bastard’s book.

And as he neared the completion of his training,

All he could think of was **_revenge_** _._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any mistakes, let me know and please don't hesitate to let me know what you guys think!


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